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catastrophizinglife · 2 years

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Good Idea. Failure. Repeat.

Have I figured it out yet? Something? Like,

1. Coming up with what I believe (at the time) is a great idea.

2. Spending sometimes years ‘doing’ this good idea.

3. Becoming a failure at said good idea.

4. Quitting said good idea.

5. Wanting to get back into doing the good idea, ever-trying, but never really getting back there.

Examples (*):

(*)The most extreme example would be sharing my art/music/videos with the world pretty much daily from the year 2005 (and my whole life before the internet became the place I’d primarily share it) until 2018.

(*)In 2018 I got a new job. I hadn’t worked more than a few months for the same employer (outside of myself) in 16 years. Get new said job, and now my job has become my work. It somehow became (and continues to be) more important to me than sharing my art (is this normal, BTW?)

(*)Writing locked up inmates (sans usually molesters and murderers) with the mindset that they, of all the people who never seemed to bat an eye when I shared with them my art or my time (work) would definitely hold onto every word that I say, because hell, they’re locked up. They don’t have the ability/means to interact with just anyone that they want. They have only each other, and family, and rely on websites to bring them in some penpal letters. But a lot of the times, not even they reacted to me the way I’d have liked, if they even responded to my initial letter to them at all.

(*)Back on the subject of work, but more micro-focused rather than macro: Making friends at work. It’s like I envision I’d tell someone at work, if anyone really cared about me there: I pretty much spend all of my waking hours at work, so I try to make work as homie as possible. Let me break it down: There are 24-hours an Earth-day. I get up and prepare for work for the first hour or 2 of the day. I work 12 hours a day. I gym 1 hour a day. I stop and grab a sub from Subway after work, and sometimes I fill the gas tank during this time-frame, so this isn’t a very long time-frame. Maybe a half-hour on average. I eat and Netflix for about a half-hour a day. I then have between a half-hour to an hour of free-time which I use to masturbate and/or watch interesting YouTube videos and Google stuff I had on my mind throughout the day. Then, I sleep 7 hours a day. This is my typical weekday schedule. And yes, I have had conversations in my head as if I were talking to a coworker where I delve into why I feel it’s important that I get to know my coworkers. Most coworkers (must) think I’m some old (42 years old) creepy homo guy. (Is there a name for it when a person takes their own insecurity and pushes it onto others as if it’s coming from other people, even though they’re actually just “best-guessing-it?” Yes, if that’s a thing, I have it.) There used to be a guy who worked where I worked. He was really up at the top. He was actually only under 1 other position in the facility (though there are many above him in the offices who oversee way more than just my facility. Anyway, this dude knew everybody’s name. Everyone’s from managers, to supervisors, to maintenance men, right down to the last cleaner. I admire this man. How he was able to retain the names and faces of over 500 people is beyond me, but he did it. I often wondered if he would forget names and faces the moment the person didn’t work there anymore. He didn’t even live at work like I do, and he still did what I wish I could do, because I live there, but he was in a position that meant something. The position I am in can and would be filled in an instant if I just popped out of existence. So, what I’m saying is, no one has a reason to talk to me ala befriend me, but it doesn’t change the fact that I still, despite that fact, try to make work as homie as possible by getting to know people. If you spend 60-hours a of your life someplace, it’s like it’s more of a home than your actual flat is. Wouldn’t you want to make it as homie as possible to? I’ll tell you from experience, living in a home where the residents don’t have healthy relationships with each other is extremely damaging -irreparably so, some might say.

Anyway, this is a current ongoing “idea” that I’m living “doing,” and the outcome of it is not looking favorable for me. My feelings are hurt every day by actively setting out to make friends and not getting any. Will this phase too end? Will I give up on this and become what most of my coworkers already are? Fed up with their jobs, and just doing it for the money, and going on about my miserable day just waiting for it to be over? I don’t see how I can, considering I live there. I work 4 more hours a day than required, but I can’t afford not to be there that much at this point in my life. What will my life look like if I have to be at work 12-hours a day, but talk to very few? Would that make me unhealthily unsocial?

Yes, it seems that my life is merely a bunch of instances where I’m coming up with good ideas, throwing my whole self into said ideas, and then failing. It causes me great grief when the outcomes are less than desirable. Afterwards I lose ambition entirely to continue on said journey. Why do I do this to myself on a loop? Whelp, because what am I supposed to be doing? What is life really about? Am I just supposed to never put myself out there on a limb, and just sit around ambitionless? What happens when I run out of good ideas to put my all into? Then what happens? Are these feelings normal? Does anyone out there actually live a life anything like this, and recognize that there’s a trend going on in it, and if so, will you make it out of that dark funk? Has anyone out there actually gotten out of said funk yet? What was the key? How did you do it? What’s next? Was it a positive outcome or negative?

I mean a person has to have really, really, really bad mental problems if something that was their identity their entire lives (my art) is suddenly “replaced” with countless new failed attempts at replacing said identity. Right? Am I irreparably broken?

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teapotatoscreams · 2 years

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Thanks for reading the scrapped idea I had for almost 2 years now

This project was literally 3 years old when I found it again in an old sketchbook, and I'm glad it now can see this light of day, the words I mean, the characters and things like that are from during the making of it.

Anyway-

Means a lot and though I know I haven't posted anything on the main account, I know no one reads these things.. not on this account at least

But it brings me comfort knowing that one day, eventually, someone would

I never cared about "popularity/status/being famous in general" that's what makes this account so special, I do have a great Community. Though it's not on this app, I found one, I haven't found my place yet and maybe It won't in a normal standard. I don't want it to though either, what matters is that you've found something

Could be sexuality, identity, friends, family, a new lover, a new game, a new movie, a passion, or even just a reason.

I haven't found much so far, so thank you for being a part of this journey with me.

-BT_HVVA

Just call be BT

It stands for Bartender, the first nickname I gave myself, and even though I'm older now, I still want that kid to have the world expanding

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZTdpBfqmw/

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZTdpBAyhX/

The first link is the one I'm active on currently, I stream weekdays at 7:00 PM PST and sometimes at 12:30 AM PST, daily uploads, streams, comic content that I post sometimes.. yeah I do a lot

The second link is the account that'll be active on the 4th of February, 2023

If you care to join us, please do! We have fun streams where we talk, rant, vent, bully eachother through everything, and even just exist. I don't ask for money, it's just Q&A streams and Art request streams (both at the same time cause I don't wanna change the tittle). I mean I'll thank you for the money but still.. KEEP IT IF YOU NEED TO LIVE MAN!! If you go broke I don't wanna be responsible! Take care of yourselves! Rules of the chat: no spam, no threats, no slurs, and no doxing, its sadly happened to someone in my chat and I don't want that again and just respect people!^^ it's basics and I'll warn you myself and I have mods in the chat that are great people that'll also warn you if your doing something sketchy or harrasing other chat members and such, they're some great people and are underrated and I always call them out when they arrive in chat, I have them on occasionally and it's just a solid small community right now. If you need to vent, you have the chat, you want advice about something like, how to write a book or build something or make something ask away! If it's asking out a crush I'll just tell you to ask them in person, repeatedly, Everytime, because I think it would be funny, but get this, the people that actually do it, get the person! :D Other than that I have other social medias? I'm not active on a lot of things.. sorry? I have another Tumblr account: isahuesman, DeviantArt: RandomChild13, Instagram: BT_HVVA, and Twitter: BT_HVVA (I don't actually don't like Twitter at all though so.. don't follow it? It's dumb? It's Twitter?)

Well, have a day! The comic will resume when I'm ready to post what happens next, also you realize that today is Friday the 13th right? This was planned way in advance, I hope you enjoy the stupidity I make and who knows, I could do something interesting one day. Take care of yourself and if you don't like water, add drink juice. There's always another option, and ask for help if you can't see it yet!

-5/13/2022

#hvva #eggsmp #hvvacomic

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diaphragmjellyfish · 3 years

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You Just Wait

gif is from @twilightofficial

A/N: The hardest part of writing a fic is honestly choosing the love interest XD I have so many fictional boyfriends it’s hard to choose just one. I have noticed a significant lack of Jared Cameron content and he’s super adorable so here it is! Also, I left the concept a little bit more vague so more people can relate to it. It doesn’t specifically say vaginismus, it’s more of a general “sex doesn’t normally go well for me” type thing.

Bottomless, covered in chocolate sauce, walking through the woods, phone dead, in the middle of August on a weekday. How did you end up here? Jared Cameron. Your boyfriend. He had roped you in to an elaborate prank on Paul that hadn’t exactly gone as planned. Needless to say, you were desperate for a shower and a nap. A hot meal wouldn’t hurt. And you were beyond irritated, not even looking Jared’s way as he walked next to you in a similar state.

“Babe, if you let me carry you, we’ll get home way faster,” he whined.

You didn’t respond, only walking with more frustration around the roots and fallen trees. It was growing dark, just about twilight, and you knew you wouldn’t be reaching either of your houses at this rate. You were miles into the forest. But your pride kept you from accepting Jared’s wolfy-back ride, because he tended to make lots of jokes about being between your legs and you riding him and blah blah blah, and you honestly might punch him right now if he did that.

So you just kept ignoring him, arms folded tightly against your chest because, yes, it was August, but this was also the Washington coast. It got pretty chilly no matter what time of year it was.

“I can see you shivering from here,” he pleaded, almost sounding in pain at the thought of you being uncomfortable. “It’s only gonna get colder. Let me help you.”

You ignored him.

“C’mooonnnnnn,” he cried. His preferred way of cracking your silence was usually by annoying you out of it, and it was working. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon c’m-”

“Jared, I swear to God!”

“Aha! She speaks!” he laughed.

“”Only to tell you to be quiet, or I’ll-”

“Or you’ll what?” he cut you off. “I’m way stronger than you!” He was teasing you into talking to him. Even if it was in the form of arguing. Damn, he always got you to crack. You stopped walking, turning to face him, arms still held tightly around yourself. You couldn’t resist a good bicker, and Jared knew that. He would get the sass to come out, and then once you got tired, he’d apologize and you’d be made up within half an hour. That’s what always happened. And you couldn’t exactly stay mad at those big brown puppy eyes for long.

“Physically, maybe,” you chided, “but I’m definitely way smarter than you.”

He stepped closer to you, a playful smirk on his face. “What, are you gonna read me to death or something?”

“I’m gonna strategize a huge plan, manipulate you, and leave you here in the forest by yourself. That’s what I’m gonna do,” you sassed. He never took arguments to heart, which is one thing you loved about him. He knew how grumpy you could get and would let you vent, and then make you forget all about the problem.

“Oh, okay, yeah sure,” he giggled, hands going up in defense. “I’m just saying that in this situation, there is no way you come out on top. You run, I catch you. You hide, I sniff you out,” he teased. This made you crack an almost imperceptible smile, but one he noticed nonetheless. “And if you did somehow manage to get away from me, you’d freeze to death in an hour flat.” The cold breeze that caused you to shiver more violently could not have had worse timing. Obviously, Jared noticed, and his face dropped. He approached you slowly, silently asking if you were still mad enough to not let him touch you. When you didn’t step back or stop him, he wrapped both his arms around you and brought you into a huge bear hug. You sighed at his warmth, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso. He’d given you his hoodie hours ago, and was left in only a pair of shorts, though he didn’t seem to notice. Damn him and his werewolf heat.

You still shivered in his arms, but his feverish temperature was a relief to your aching bones.

“See? Could’ve been warm hours ago,” he teased once again, noting your clinginess.

“Shut up. I’m still mad,” you mumbled into his neck. He laughed softly to himself, rubbing his hands up and down your body to create more heat. After a few minutes, you were starting to struggle to keep your eyes open. It had to be close to 2 in the morning, and you’d been walking for what felt like hours. Jared could have easily run home and let you brood alone, but he stuck with you no matter how long you went without speaking to him.

“Sleepy?” he murmured into your hair. You just nodded softly, and didn’t protest as he bent down, one hand going behind your knees and the other staying around your back. He picked you up with ease and started walking through the woods once more with an “Okay Princess, I got you.” His stride never faltered, easily avoiding tripping over roots or slipping on rain-soaked moss. He must have been walking for about 30 minutes, never so much as breathing hard or shifting you in his grip. You didn’t sleep, but welcomed the rest he allowed you. Your eyes were closed, head resting on his shoulder when you felt him stop. You looked up, and in the distance, maybe 50 yards away, you saw a small building.

“Hunter’s cabin, I’m guessing. No one’s home,” Jared stated, anticipating your questions.

“Think there’ll be blankets?” you wondered, tired, yet still playful.

“What, am I not enough for you?” he feigned mock hurt as you giggled at his unshakeable good attitude. Without another word, he began walking towards the small cabin, which was about the size of an average bedroom. When you reached the door, he set you down gently, holding his hands close to your waist while you found your footing, and then wrapping an arm over your shoulders to keep you warm.

“I’m assuming it’s locked,” you sighed, disappointed.

“Babe, no door is locked when you have super strength. Honestly, I thought you’d have more faith in me by now,” he smiled brightly.

“You can’t just go around kicking random people’s doors in!” you scolded.

“Okay, first of all, I can tell by the smell that no one��s been here in years. Second of all, how would anyone know it was us that broke in and not, like, a deer? And third of all, I’d say this counts as an emergency,” he sassed right back at you. You looked at him in annoyance, too tired and cold to actually care.

After a long sigh, you muttered “fine.”

He immediately turned to the door, not letting you so much as inhale before he slammed his foot into the space next to the knob, the door all but flying off its hinges. The whole scene caused deafening noise that interrupted the silence of the trees.

“Jesus!” you called out in surprise, a hand shooting up to your pounding heart. You look around, though knowing no one was around for miles. Jared only turned to look at you, a cheeky smile adorning his face, and said,

“See? Told ya.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the loving and admiring energy that overcame you. Jared really was one in a million, and you were lucky to be by his side. He could be in the worst situation in the world and still find something to laugh about.

He motioned for you to go in first, ever the gentleman. Walking through the door, the first thing you noticed was the dust. The entire inside of the cabin was covered in a thick layer of it. There was a small, rickety couch with cushions so worn they had holes in them throughout. And the fabric… my God. It looked like something from the 60’s, an obnoxious floral that had faded over time, and now just looked flat out stained. There was a flimsy throw blanket over the back of the couch, a cooler in the corner of the room that was covered in dirt, and on the opposite wall, a fireplace! No wood, no matches, but it was there. The floor was scattered with bullet shells, receipts, and decayed leaves. It was obvious no one had been in here for at least 3 or 4 years.

“Okay, I can work with this,” Jared said. You really were jealous of his optimism. But, as disgusting as this place was, it beat the frigid breeze of outside, and had a place where you could rest your heads. You walked over to the couch, grabbing the blanket and beating the dust off of it. It was really only meant for one person, but you guys were okay with getting close. It would do.

Jared walked over to the opposite corner where the cooler sat by the fireplace and opened the lid, peeking inside.

“Just water,” he said, sounding almost disappointed.

“Were you really gonna eat whatever was in there?” you spoke incredulously.

“Babe, I’m starving. You have no idea how close I am to licking that chocolate sauce off of you,” he voiced. You had almost forgotten about the sticky sauce that covered both of your clothes. That prank really was a disaster. You looked down, face heating at the thought of Jared’s mouth on you like that, and turned to the fireplace where he stood. He was looking on the mantle, oblivious to the effect his comment had on you, and exclaimed “Aha!” before reaching up to grab something. “A lighter. We’re saved! Well, you are,” he laughed looking over at your shivering form once more. “Stay here and get comfy. I’m gonna go get some wood.”

You tried your best, sitting on the edge of the couch and immediately feeling a spring poking you in the butt. The couch really was tiny. You guys were gonna have to bundle up close to fit. The thought excited you. Sure, you and Jared had always been comfortable touching and holding each other, but there were certain areas of your relationship you had yet to explore. More… intimate areas. It was your fault mostly. To make a long story short, you’ve just never enjoyed sex. You found yourself not able to get aroused, which made things painful. Sure, you wanted to. You’d thought about it a ton. But in the moment, your head was so full of thoughts of ‘What if he thinks I’m ugly? What if I smell? Am I doing this right? Is he having a good time? Am I taking too long?’ that you just stopped trying. And obviously you wanted to have sex with Jared, but you were worried he’d be disappointed. By the time he got back, just a few minutes later, you had brought your knees up to your chest, holding your legs close in an effort to preserve warmth.

“Doing okay Sweetheart?” he asked gently. You gave a small smile and nodded in response. He plopped the logs in his arms down into the fireplace, scavenging the floor for receipts, dried leaves, anything that would catch fire. He dumped these into the fireplace and lit them, the fire catching within seconds. He walked over to the other side of the room where the couch was before bending down, grabbing the bottom lip of it, and pulling it (and you) across the floor, one-handed, and closer to the fire. “Better?” You had always been in awe of his strength. Let’s be honest, it was just plain sexy. Again, you just nodded your head, staring at him in adoration.

He sat beside you on the couch, throwing an arm over your shoulders again, and leaning back, taking you with him. You cuddled into his side, watching the fire.

“Ya know, if you take away the shitty couch and sticky clothes and add a few more blankets, this would actually be pretty nice,” he finally spoke.

You laughed softly, replying, “It would. The couch isn’t even awful, but these clothes are really ruining the mood for me.”

“Well why don’t you get out of ‘em, hot stuff?” he joked. You knew he wasn’t serious because you guys haven’t gotten that far yet, but something, maybe the exhaustion or the way he kept challenging you today, made you want to actually do it. Before you could lose your nerve, you reached down, pulling off the hoodie and shirt in one go and tossing them onto the floor. You relaxed back into his arms in just a bra, acting like nothing had happened. He was frozen beside you. Maybe it was mean, but you wanted to tease him a little. He’d put you through a lot today, so you wanted to mess with him a tiny bit. So, coolly, you brought a hand onto his thigh and began running it up and down, going higher and higher with each pass. He was still frozen, so you gave a light squeeze, and heard him inhale sharply, though he tried to hide it.

“I thought you were tired,” he commented.

“Guess I’m not anymore,” you responded, turning to face him boldly. He immediately leaned in to kiss you, softly as always. You reciprocated, bringing your other hand up to cup his face. His arm that was around your shoulders slipped down around your waist, pulling you in further. Jared had always been gentle when kissing you, so you knew you’d have to make the first move to deepen it. Which is exactly what you did. Running your hand up his head and grabbing his hair, you pulled him towards you even more and traced your tongue across his bottom lip. He responded by matching your energy, tongue slipping out to caress yours before bringing your bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling softly. You guys had never kissed like this before. You felt a bead of warmth pool in your abdomen, something you’d never felt with a guy before. Sure, you’d been turned on while watching certain videos or reading certain fanfiction by yourself, but you’d never actually experienced it with someone before. It was exciting. Maybe it was the knowledge that you could stop things at any time and he wouldn’t be upset, or maybe it was how in love with you he really was, but you didn’t feel nervous or worried. You felt comfortable.

Taking things a step further, you swung your leg over both of his, moving to straddle his lap.

He pulled away slightly at this, making you ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he responded, “I just don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do.”

You smiled, “I’m not doing anything I don’t wanna do. Are you?”

“Are you seriously asking me that question right now?” He laughed, making you giggle along.

You leaned back in for another kiss, when he stopped you again. “What exactly… are we doing, though?” You knew what he was silently asking. Are we about to go all the way? And you didn’t know yet. This had started out as playful teasing, but now you were beginning to think that maybe you did want to try something. With Jared. He was it for you, the one you wanted to spend forever with. If you couldn’t trust him, you couldn’t trust anyone. And he’d taken such good care of you these last few hours, keeping you warm, making sure you were storming off in the right direction, that you knew he’d appreciate you in a more intimate sense.

“I- I kind of would like to try… some stuff,” you answered.

He looked at you, eyes wide, before answering, “What kind of stuff? I mean, I will do literally anything you ask me to do and you know that, but I didn’t really prepare for this. Like, I don’t… have what we need.” Oh, a condom. What a responsible boy.

“I’m on the pill,” you replied a little too quickly before looking down and fiddling with your hands. “If you want to.”

“Y/N, I would be absolutely fucking honored,” he breathed, before cupping your face and pulling you into the most heated kiss yet. Your tongues danced, hands wandering. Yours, across his muscled chest and abdomen, and his, down your waist and around to cup your pantsless ass, squeezing firmly. It felt nice. He handled you in a way that was gentle and painless, but still dominant and firm. And it made the heat in your belly grow. You continued kissing for several minutes, your hands moving up his neck and eventually landing in his hair once more, and his remaining on your ass and waist. You softly sucked at his lower lip, nibbling slightly, and it made him let out a low growl and pull your hips forward onto his, where you felt something hard push against you. You knew what it was, and it didn’t scare you like it normally would. You did, however, feel your damp underwear. Shit, that’s never happened before. You were normally bone dry at this point. You let out a soft sigh, grinding your hips onto him once more.

He softened his kisses slightly, bringing a hand around to your stomach and running his knuckles lightly across your lower abdomen.

“Can I?” He questioned delicately.

“Yes,” you replied almost immediately. He brought his hand under the waistband of your underwear, when you said, “Wait,” and he stopped. “Just one thing. I kind of… have never been able to do this without it hurting a lot, so maybe you could just try to be gentle?”

“Oh, baby, you’ve been in pain before? I’m so sorry,” he whispered genuinely.

“It’s okay, I just…” It was now or never. He should know. “Normally I’m super nervous about everything, so I can’t really… get into it, and when girls aren’t into it it’s kind of… dry? And that makes it kind of hurt really bad.” You faded out at the end, feeling embarrassed. He brought his hand out of your underwear and up to your chin, tilting your face up to look him in the eye, looking concerned. “But I’m into this, I mean, right now. I’m excited. I just thought I should warn you,” you awkwardly laughed at the end.

“You promise? Because you know that if you want to stop we will, and I would never be upset or pressure or anything like that,” he spoke sweetly, making your heart flutter. And you did know that, which is why you felt comfortable. Every other time, you felt that if you went past a certain point, you couldn’t say stop. Couldn’t call it off without making whatever guy you were with super mad and then… who knows what would happen. But when Jared spoke those words, you believed him.

“I promise. And I know you’ll stop. But I don’t want you to.”

With this, he scanned your face one more time for any signs of hesitation, and when he found none, brought you down into another heated kiss. You felt his hand trail from your chin down to your breasts, skimming over your bra, down your stomach and once again to the waistband of your underwear. Only this time he didn’t go under. He stayed on top of the fabric and brought his hand down between your legs, index finger brushing lightly against your core. You barely felt it, and began to worry that you’d once again feel numb. Oftentimes, when guys would touch you or go down on you, you felt nothing. It was like you were broken or something. And you started to become concerned that tonight would be no different.

But he brought his finger down again, repeating the same movement, only with significantly more pressure this time, and it had you release an involuntary sigh. And instead of removing his finger like he had the first time, he kept it over your clit, drawing firm circles.

Your mouth dropped open in a silent moan, Jared staring intently at your face.

“Oh, wow,” you finally breathed.

“Good?” he asked cockily, wearing a large smirk. He repeated the movement again, drawing a line from your core to your clit, stopping to rub circles.

“Mmm hmm,” you sighed. He leaned in once more to meet you with the sloppiest, dirtiest kiss you two had shared yet, and it only made you grind your center into his hand. He repeated the action several times over, and you were a writhing mess in minutes.

He brought a finger under your waistband once more, stretching the elastic out before letting it snap lightly against your skin. “Let’s take these off, hmm?” You’d never stood up so fast in your life, practically ripping the panties off of you, taking your bra off with it. Jared stood up to remove his shorts, but stopped to stare.

“What?” you questioned shyly, moving to cover up.

“You’re literally the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

The boy quite literally had heart eyes for you.

“Oh,” you responded meekly, cheeks heating up. When you kept looking back at him, he seemed to snap back into the moment and hurriedly ripped off his shorts and underwear, sitting back on the couch and opening his arms for you. You moved to straddle his hips the same way as before, and he brought his arms around to embrace you as you shared another heated kiss. One of his hands moved up to cup your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple as if you were made of glass. Jared pulled his mouth off of yours and trailed his lips down the side of your face, to your jaw, and down onto your neck, suckling lightly and leaving wet kisses. You tilted your head to the side to give him better access, and brought one of your hands down between you two to grasp him. He shuddered, only grabbing your hips and bringing you impossibly closer. His other hand trailed down to your center once more, going straight to your core and gathering the slight wetness there before bringing his finger up to your clit and circling. With your underwear out of the way, you felt almost lightheaded at his touch. You never knew how girls could cum during sex before, because you never seemed to feel much at all unless it was pain, but with how aroused you were right now and Jared’s movements, you thought for the first time that you may actually be able to finish. People do say that 90% of sex is mental, and you guessed this is what they meant. The more into it you are, the more physical sensation you actually feel. Groundbreaking.

“Can I finger you?” he murmured huskily into your neck.

You tensed slightly at this, but trusted him. If you said stop, he would. “Ok, just go slow.”

“Of course,” he responded before placing a sweet kiss on your shoulder and bringing his index finger back to your core, swirling around the entrance a few times. You took a few deep breaths to relax your muscles, and he looked at you, wordlessly asking, Ready? You nodded, and he slipped his finger in, just to the first knuckle, and held it still while he brought his thumb to your clit and continued rubbing. When he noticed you visibly relax, he slipped his finger in further to the second knuckle, stopping for a few seconds, and then all the way. He kept it here again, giving you time to adjust or tell him to stop, all the while keeping you stimulated with his thumb. It felt really good. Well, you didn’t exactly feel his finger at all, which was better than pain, and his thumb was making you crazy. Your breathing was labored at this point, eyebrows furrowed as you held onto his shoulders, nails digging in and sure to leave scratches. He pressed the finger inside of you onto your front wall suddenly, massaging the ridges firmly, and you let out a moan. Your first real moan ever. And damn did it get Jared excited. He continued this motion again and again, building in intensity and pressure slowly. When he felt how wet you had become, he pulled his finger back out to the first knuckle, and added his middle finger next to it, sliding them both back in slowly so as not to hurt you. Your eyes widened at the stretch, but it didn’t hurt. It felt amazing.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered to yourself, before moaning once more as his fingers began the ‘come-hither’ motion once more.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked, concerned at your cursing.

“No, feels so good,” you moaned, and he smiled at this, increasing the pressure even more. Your eyes screwed shut, hips stuttering over his hand, letting him finger fuck you for several more minutes as you began to feel a tightening in your stomach. He brought his thumb off of your clit finally, adjusting his hand for a better angle and bringing his other hand off of your waist and up to his mouth, licking his thumb and bringing that down to your clit, resuming the tight circles. You could hear how wet you were, feeling too good to be embarrassed. The heat in your stomach was building, spreading. You felt your legs begin to shake, muscles begin to tighten around his fingers, and your eyes screwed shut as you opened your mouth in a silent scream and came. The waves of pleasure washed over you for a long time, Jared slowing his movements down so as not to overstimulate you. When you finally opened your eyes again, you were panting, legs feeling like Jello. Jared was staring at you with a look of absolute awe on his face, mouth agape and dick rock hard, red, and leaking precum. He was more turned on than he had ever been from actual sex before, and it was only from watching you.

“Fuck, baby that was so hot,” he all but moaned.

You reached down to grasp him, panting a “your turn.”

He grabbed both your wrists, stopping you. “Nuh uh, this is about you. Lie the fuck down.”

You gasped, his dominant tone turning you on despite your recent climax. You both knew that if you were even slightly uncomfortable, things would stop immediately. But it was fun for both of you to let him be a little aggressive. You did as told, lying long ways across the couch cushions, Jared moving to kneel between your legs, moving your knees softly apart so he could look at all of you. You didn’t feel insecure being exposed like this. You felt excited.

“Are you absolutely sure you wanna do this?” he questioned.

“I have never been more sure, Jared baby, I want to,” you pleaded. This was enough for him, so he brought his dick down to line up with your entrance, rubbing the tip up and down a few times to collect your wetness. He was worried that there wouldn’t be enough lubricant, so he brought a hand up to his mouth and spit, rubbing the saliva on his cock.

“You just wait ‘til we get some real lube and a real fucking bed, Princess. You won’t be able to walk for days.” You shuddered at the thought of this, and of the sensation of his dick rubbing around your clit and back down to your entrance. He pushed in slightly, letting the tip in before pausing and checking your face for any signs of pain. When he found none, he pushed in slightly more, and more. He was being extremely slow, and you appreciated it. Guys normally would just shove themselves inside, not giving you any time to adjust before pounding away. But Jared was careful, despite how turned on you knew he was. He still had your best interest in mind. Within a couple of minutes, he was fully seated inside of you, staying still until you told him to move. He brought his face down to give you a sweet kiss, waiting for you to give him the signal.

After a few seconds, you didn’t feel any sort of stinging or pain, so you nodded, saying “Just start slow.”

“Of course,” he replied genuinely. He pulled his hips back just a few inches, before slowly grinding them back into yours. You closed your eyes, focusing on keeping your muscles loose and relaxed as he continues this movement a few more times. The next time he pushed in, he ground his hips further into yours, hitting the deepest parts of you. This had you release a gasp, eyes opening to meet his. “Okay?” he questioned.

“Yes.”

He did this several more times, letting you get used to the feeling of him being so deep inside of you, before your hips began to grind back into his. It felt really good. When he noticed this, he began pulling his hips back more, pushing back in slightly faster, and this had you moaning. You threw your head back, back arched, just enjoying the sensations. Your hands were grasping at his shoulders, definitely leaving scratch marks.

“Oh my God,” you whispered.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he responded, planting sloppy kisses to your neck and collar bone. “Baby, I’m not gonna last much longer.”

You smiled at this, glad he was enjoying it as much as you were. “Go ahead, cum for me,” you spoke, and your words had him right on the edge. He pulled out of you quickly, hand fisting his cock as he stared at your sweaty, writhing body below him. He came hard, spilling onto your stomach as he growled out, the sound making your toes curl, almost animalistic. You both remained in this position as you came down, breaths labored and eyes barely open. He stood up fully off of the couch and reached for the flimsy blanket on the floor, using it to wipe off your stomach. He threw it into the corner of the room and lay down next to you on the couch, gathering you up into his arms to cuddle.

“Did you have a good time?” he asked almost nervously after a few minutes.

“Nah, kinda sucked,” you teased, and he let out a playful laugh, lightly shoving you away before pulling you back and planting a kiss on your temple.

A pause. “For real though,” he prodded, beginning to panic slightly.

You burst out laughing. “Of course I had a good time, Jared. Best i’ve ever had, if I’m being honest.”

“Ok good,” he sighed, relieved but trying not to show that you actually had him nervous for a second.

Another pause. “Did… did you have a good time?” you questioned back at him.

He seemed almost offended at the question, bringing a hand up to cup your face so that your eyes met his. “Y/N, this was the best night of my entire life. That was perfect. You are perfect. And I’m glad you trusted me enough to do that with you.”

You felt your eyes sting slightly, emotions running wild. You considered yourself the luckiest girl in the world to be with Jared Cameron. Not only was he totally gorgeous, but kind, hilarious, and great in bed.

In an effort to switch the tone back to a more playful one, you replied, “Yeah, well I was promised some more fun involving real lube and a real bed so…”

He tugged you further into him, wrapping his arms around you in a way that made you think he might never let go. He laughed, and said “Oh, you just wait.”

#jared cameron x reader #jared cameron #twilight #wolf pack #paul lahote #sam uley #jacob black #embry call #seth clearwater #quil ateara #edward cullen #twilight smut #vaginismus

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companionjones · 3 years

Text

Same (5/8)

Fandoms: Marvel, MCU, The Avengers, Doctor Strange, BBC Sherlock

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader x Doctor Strange

Summary: In this chapter, we head back in time a bit to see Stephen and Reader meet, and what happened right before Reader met Sherlock.

Warnings: A bit of angst, but I think that’s it

Author’s Note: Head’s up, I’m not done writing all the parts to this. So if you’re following this story, there might be more or less chapters than eight, and there might be changes in chapters after I post them.

1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 (original chapter posted)

*******

“Hello.”

Stephen spotted you as he descended the main staircase in New York’s Sanctum Sanctorum. “I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong address.”

You were standing in the foyer. “Nope. I know where I am. You’re Dr. Strange.”

He nodded. “That I am. May I ask who you are?”

“Y/n L/n,” you happily answered. “Well, I’m better known as S/h/n.”

Strange reached the bottom of the stairs. He narrowed his eyes. “What do the Avengers want?”

You shrugged. “We’ve heard about you. We know you’re powerful, and we think you’d be able to do more good as a member of the team. What do you think?”

“Uh, I’m good,” he turned you down with a bit of a sarcastic tone. “I do all the good I want to here.”

“Okay,” you chuckled. “It was nice meeting you. I hope we see each other again. Have a lovely day!” You have a cheerful goodbye, and left a business card on a table on your way out.

The next time you saw Strange, ironically, it was after he joined the Avengers. “Look who it is,” you smiled as you entered his quarters at the Avengers Compound. He still lived at the Sanctorum, but Tony still made a place for him at the compound. Because of course he did.

Steven was still unpacking. He glanced up at you, “I will be splitting my time between here and the Sanctorum.” He sighed, “I realized I could help more here.”

“Good,” you giggled. “My room’s down the hall.” You gestured to your right. “Third door on the left...Welcome to the Avengers, Dr. Strange.”

A couple months passed, and Stephen settled into the routine of working at the Sanctum Santorum during the weekdays and visiting the Avengers Compound on the weekends. The doctor was also on call for any disaster the Avengers might need him for.

Whenever Strange was at the compound, it was a sure thing that you’d be with him. The two of you had quickly become inseparable. You often asked him questions about his abilities. “So there really are infinite dimensions out there? Like there are infinite yous and infinite mes?” You had one of his pillows in your lap, and you were sitting criss-cross on his bed.

Steven was sitting in a chair by a window. His right ankle was resting on his left knee. A book was open in his lap. Strange casually answered you, “Yep.” He then inhaled deeply, thinking. “I could show you some...other universes, that is.”

“Wait, really?” Your eyes went wide. You set the pillow down next to you. You were already ready to go.

Strange chuckled. “Yes.”

“Can we...go now?”

He looked at you. “Now?”

“Yeah...”

Steven sighed, “Sure.”

“Oh my god! Yes! This is so exciting!” You jumped out of his bed as you giggled.

Strange chuckled at your antics. “Alright. Stay right next to me. Usually, travelling between dimensions can be very jarring. I’m going to use a method I discovered, where we travel using the ring portals.”

“Is this called ‘The Strange Method’?” You tried your absolute best to hide your smile. You failed miserably.

He gave you the side eye. “Are you done?”

“Yep,” you chuckled. You saw that Stephen was smirking a little, too.

“Alright.” He opened a portal. “Shall we?”

Steven showed you several dimensions. Some were normal-looking, with only a few differences from your reality; and others were down-right bizarre with bright matter and creatures you did not recognize.

While the two of you were in one of the visually familiar dimensions, Strange got a call from Wong. He was needed back at the Sanctum Santorum for something.

“That phone works in different dimensions?” you questioned in a laughing tone.

Stephen laughed, too. You had gotten him to loosen up quite a lot that day.

He replied, “Be nice. Me, Tony, and Bruce spent weeks getting this phone to work.”

“I see...Stephen, could I stay here while you go deal with that?”

That surprised him. “You want to stay here?”

“Just to have lunch. It’d be pretty cool to eat in another dimension. This one has the same food and money, right?”

Strange nodded. “Most things are the same here. Are you sure, Y/n?”

“I am. Are you okay with this?”

A bit distracted, Stephen repeated your words, “I am...Okay, I’ll come back in two hours exactly.”

“I’ll meet you right here,” you promised.

Stephen was still a little hesitant. “You’ll...stay safe?”

“Of course. Do you know a safer person?” you asked, then remembered exactly who you were. “Bad example. I’ll be fine, Strange.”

He sighed heavily. “Okay. Two hours.”

“Two hours. I’ll buy you lunch, too,” you smiled.

He still seemed unsure.

“I’ll be fine,” you told him again.

Stephen searched your eyes. “Okay.” He leaned forward to kiss your forehead. “I’ll see you in two hours.” He stepped away from you and ducked down an alleyway.

Two hours. That was all it took for everything to change. You met Strange where the two of you agreed. It was so hard not to spill all your thoughts to Stephen once you saw him again.

“Hey, Stephen,” you greeted him quietly, “How’s the Sanctum?”

“Fine,” he replied, “Wong was just worried about something in Hong Kong. It was nothing. We fixed it.”

“Good,” you nodded.

Strange furrowed his brow. “Did something happen?”

You had to physically push your answer out. “Yes.”

Immediately, he was worried. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” You put a hand on his arm. “I promise, okay? It’s just...I think I want to stay here?”

He resteadied his feet. “What?”

“I know it’s sudden.”

“You’ve only been here two hours!”

“I know! I know...Let me show you something.”

You walked Strange a couple streets over, to Baker Street. There, the two of you spotted two men entering address 221. One of them looked exactly like Stephen would without a beard.

“Would you look at that,” Strange commented on the sight.

You explained, “That’s Sherlock Holmes, and his friend there is John Watson.”

“Watson looks exactly like Agent Ross from the CIA,” Strange pointed out.

Your eyes widened. “Oh my god, he does!”

Strange wondered, “Why did you take me here?”

“Those two men want me to move into the spare apartment in that building,” you revealed.

Strange was understandably confused. “And you’re just going to do that?”

“Well...if I’m being honest, I’ve been thinking about leaving the compound for a while now,” you admitted, “And Sherlock...”

“What about Sherlock?”

You sighed, “He’s an extremely clever man, a detective. Stubborn, too. Sherlock convinced me to go along on a case with them when I helped them chase down a suspect. We solved that case within the hour. Sherlock asked me if I wanted to partner with them officially.”

Strange wasn’t convinced. “What is it about Sherlock specifically though?” he questioned roughly.

You ducked your head and rolled your lips. “I guess I form attachments too easily. Even to people who don’t feel the same. I mean...that’s what happened with you.” You swallowed at your confession. You turned your gaze back up Stephen.

The doctor almost looked hurt. “Is that why you want to leave? Because of me?”

“What? Like you could ever feel the same way.” You laughed bitterly, but then you caught his eye again. What you saw made your heart drop.

So many emotions were hidden in his eyes-too many emotions.

“Oh, Stephen...” You placed a hand on his cheek. Your voice was raw. It was too late for the two of you then. “ I think I need to go.”

He put his own hand on yours to hold it in place.

“Tell the others I’ll come back once a month to check on things. Never come to the flat, okay? If Sherlock saw you...I don’t know what that would do to him...”

Strange smirked, “Flat? Going British on me already?”

“Maybe I am,” you chuckled, “And I’m sorry I didn’t grab you lunch.”

Stephen joked, “I’ll hold that against you forever.”

“If it’s any consolation, I didn’t have lunch either,” you chuckled.

He laughed a little more. “I’ll come back for you on the 30th so you can visit the team.”

You nodded, then leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. “Goodbye, Strange.”

“I’ll see you soon, Y/n.”

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! Boy, I am so glad I was able to build on Reader and Stephen’s relationship. Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it! I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, I have more MCU and Sherlock fics over on my page. You should check it out. Thanks again! Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

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drxwsyni · 4 years

Text

Petrified (pt.2)

Yandere Erasermic x f!Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

a/n: okaayy this took longer to write than i was hoping for but here it is!

4.2k words

Warnings: some harassment, light injury

It amazed you that despite the extreme overuse of your quirk in the past thirty-six hours, you were still able to hold on to a remaining amount of wavering consciousness. You’d like to think it was because you’ve grown stronger after using it so much over the past few years. In reality, it was most likely due to the chilled wind that blew against your form keeping you awake as you walked home, mind still reeling from the events towards the end of your shift.

On a normal weekday the venture back to your apartment would only take roughly fifteen minutes, twelve if you took a few less than safe shortcuts. Now however, the concept of time was not something your short circuited brain could understand. With limbs feeling like they were made of lead, you could only imagine how much longer this ordeal was going to take.

With your brain on autopilot, you let your thoughts wander in hopes that you’d just blank until you reached your destination. That was until you met the familiar alleyway to your left on the sidewalk.

Doing a quick cost-benefit analysis, you deduced that in your state, shaving off a few minutes of travel time with this detour may be crucial if you want to make it home without collapsing before you got there. Although you were aware of the shady business that went down in areas like this, the alleyway was the only option if you wanted to fall asleep in your own bed.

It was pitch black outside, a few dim street lamps serving as the only form of illumination. The alleyway was dark, but there was just enough light bouncing off the walls for you to discern the narrow path ahead.

You made a final decision, turning down the path despite the pit in your stomach that had just begun to form. I just need to focus on getting home, you told yourself, attempting to calm your nerves.

About thirty feet in and you realized just how stupid you were for ever thinking this was a good idea.

On the other side of the alleyway, the only exit to the narrow path, you could just barely see the silhouette of a tall, large figure step into the clearing. Squinting, your clouded brain slowly identified that the person, seemingly a man, was gradually walking in your direction.

By now you were about halfway through the passage. Understanding that the man likely had bad intentions, you pivoted on your heels and sped up back down the way you came.

...At least that’s what you were going to do, but blocking your path, lazily sauntering in your direction were two more equally large statured men.

Just like that your heart sunk into the now gaping pit in your stomach, the feeling giving you whiplash. Frozen in place, you felt your heart pounding as if it were ready to burst right through your chest. It’s okay, just give them your bag and run for it if they try anything, it’s not like you’d lose much anyways.

You looked back around to see the first figure had drawn close, now standing roughly ten feet away. Head whipping to face the other two again, you found them to have closed the same distance.

One of them, you couldn’t tell who in the darkness, spoke up. “Hey there cutie, what’s a little lady like you doing out all by herself?” His voice was rough, sounding like he smoked a pack a day.

Behind you the other man joined in, startling you. “Yeah, don’t you know how dangerous it is at night baby?”

At this point he had produced what looked like a crowbar. He may have had it before, but your memory was already failing you. The effects of your rapidly increasing heart rate were becoming unbearably severe at this point. Seeing black spots forming at the edges of your vision, along with a dizziness that felt sickening, you wondered if you’d even be able to reason with these guys.

Somehow you sputtered out a defence. “I-I swear, whatever money I have y-you can take it. I really don’t want any trouble, I promise.”

You hear a low chuckle behind you, but you didn’t turn around, or rather you couldn’t, fear taking root and holding you in place.

“C’mon now sugar, we just wanna have a little fun is all. Why don’t you just be good and play along, yeah?”

Nothing you could’ve done would make any words come out of your mouth in protest. Instead, all you could comprehend was the sudden absence of noise around you.

The men hadn’t left, and there was still the sound of distant life outside the alleyway that could probably be heard. But none of that was being processed in your mind.

Dimly, you could see the man in front of you talking, his mouth moving to form words, but it was clear now that the surge of panic and adrenaline had incapacitated your form. Your hearing had failed you, replaced with what sounded like blood rushing through your head.

It was time for the rest of your body to follow suit, crumbling under the severe exhaustion and aggressive response from your body trying to activate its fight or flight senses.

Knees buckling beneath your form, your body swayed slightly to the side as you collapsed hard onto the concrete. Laying there completely limp, your eyes fluttered closed with heavy eyelids. You processed that nothing you could do would prevent unconsciousness, effectively giving up.

It took a few more seconds for sleep to completely envelope you, now unable to even lift a finger in protest. Maybe it was just hallucinations from your lucid, half asleep state, but you could’ve sworn you could make out the distant sounds of loud cursing from multiple people. Maybe even a few pained grunts here and there.

But that comprehension was swiftly cut short, your body finally succumbing to its stresses, knocking you out like a light.

_______

Hizashi was seated in a cushioned armchair positioned just off the edge of the hospital bed so he could keep an eye on the figure laying in front of him. Eyes unmoving from that one spot, he watched the rise and fall of your chest as your unconscious form remained otherwise still.

For a moment he glanced at his wristwatch, seeing that he’d been looking after you for a little under two hours, now being 11:06 pm. During all this time your form had remained in what the doctors had explained as pretty much a coma, brought on by extreme strain of the body’s energy. It wasn’t likely to last long, but the reasoning behind it was concerning enough that they’d administered fluids which you were also lacking by an equally unhealthy amount.

Having more than enough time to think, the voice hero attempted to deduce any possible explanations as to how you’d let your health deteriorate so much. He’d had his fair share of experience when it came to seeing what the effects of overworking can have on the human body. This however was most definitely up there, especially for someone in your line of work.

Bringing him out of his thoughts, a nurse lightly rapped on the door before entering. “Pardon me Yamada sir, but visitor hours ended at 9 pm. I’m going to have to insist that you leave for tonight. You can come again starting at 6:30 am tomorrow however.”

Knowing he’d overstayed his welcome, the blond silently agreed, standing out of his seat and grabbing his jacket that was hanging off the back of it. He gave you one last look, inwardly wishing there was more he could do for you at the moment, before taking his leave.

Hizashi was headed back to his car when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, pulling it out almost frantically.

From: Shouta <3

Just got back from the station. I already know what you’re going to say, just tell me when you get home and focus on driving. See you soon.

11:10 pm

It was obvious his partner was equally concerned over the state you were in, especially given how he reacted when they apprehended the thugs trying to take advantage of you. Knowing he’d have to wait so as not to irritate Shouta more than he likely already was, the voice hero put his phone away and traded it for an electronic key, unlocking the sleek, black car and stepping in.

The ride home felt like it took ages, his mind still racing whilst going over the events from that night. Attempting to ease his conscience, Hizashi decided to take the time to figure out what he’d say to his partner. Specifically, how they’d deal with you.

_____

When he finally pulled into the driveway it felt as if he was going mad, still reeling from the thoughts of what could’ve happened if him and Shouta didn’t find you in time.

Pushing those scenarios to the back of his head, the blond stepped out of the car and made his way to the front entrance. He typed in the combination to the keypad, hearing the locking mechanism shift before reaching for the handle.

It was silent in the house as he walked in, closing the door behind him. Looking over to the dining room table, he saw the bouquet of flowers you’d arranged for Shouta that night, beautifully settled into a vase.

Distantly, Hizashi could hear the thumping of footsteps above him. Knowing who they belonged to, he resolved to hang up his jacket before anxiously waiting for his partner in the living room.

On queue, Shouta made his way downstairs, hair still wet from showering. Plopping down on the living room couch with an audible sigh, he started. “I got the information of the guys who attacked (y/n) before I left. They’re behind bars so there’s nothing more we can do.”

The blond was leaning against the mantle of the fireplace, arms crossed while anxiously tapping his foot as if waiting for permission to start his rant.

Expectedly, his partner lazily waved, as if to say ‘get it over with.’ In truth, he knew what Hizashi was going to say, and he agreed, but the fact of the matter was that his partner always ended up being overzealous with his passions. The only thing that mattered right now was working out a way to properly deal with both of their concerns.

“Y’know when ya told me how tired the poor thing looked after coming home last week from the shop, I thought you meant like how you look after patrolling all night.”

Shouta disregarded the insult, knowing full well how he appeared sometimes after doing so.

“But this is just―she fucking passed out from getting scared, that shit ain’t normal Shou’.”

His counterpart let him calm down for a second before acknowledging the situation. “I know, you think it doesn’t bother me just as much?” He leaned back into the sofa, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. “I didn’t think it was this bad. But it could honestly just be a medical problem. Chronic fatigue, severe anxiety...or something like that.”

The blond lightly shook his head. “Maybe, it’s just… I don’t know babe, something seems off to me. And I know you’re thinking it’s me overreacting again, but would ya just hear me out?”

The frustration in the air was palpable, neither being able to settle on a flimsy excuse. “No, you’re not overreacting. I got the same feeling, we just can’t jump to conclusions right now, got it?”

Hizashi’s shoulders slumped in a mixture of relief over the mutual understanding of concern, and defeat for having to hold off on his suspicions.

As if his counterpart knew exactly how the man felt, he continued. “Let’s just wait it out for a bit. Hell, how many people have we seen go through similar things. It’s likely she’ll just have to rest up for a bit. Nothing to worry about.”

The blond sighed, “Sure, whatever―I’m still gonna check up on her tomorrow though, ‘kay?”

“Of course. Now go take a shower, I can smell you from here.”

The atmosphere became a little less tense, having reached a conclusion.

Hizashi chuckled lightly before walking off in the direction of their bedroom, leaving Shouta to relax in the comfort of a quiet house.

_____

The sound of a steady, electronic beeping was the first thing you could make sense of as your body gradually gained back its senses. It was hard, but you channelled every ounce of energy in your body to open your eyes, albeit halfway, to assess your surroundings.

The first thing you noticed was the warm lighting cast upon a bleak white ceiling above. It felt comforting, serving as assistance to calm the growing worry you felt from not knowing where you were. It was likely late in the evening or perhaps sunrise you concluded.

Moving still proved to be difficult, so instead you opted for momentarily trying to piece together what scattered memories you had.

Vaguely, you recall going home after your shift, noting the holes in the messy timeline from what you assume was fatigue-induced memory loss. Next was the unforgettable sense of dread you felt after being trapped by two...no, three people? There were a few lines of conversation thrown around by the perpetrators which you couldn’t quite remember the exact contents of, and given the situation maybe that was a good thing. That’s where the encounter ended, and you were left to assume that like the Saturday shift incident you had long ago, you passed out mostly from exhaustion.

With that done you forced yourself to identify the current situation at hand. It seemed judging by the sterile looking ceiling and walls, along with the telltale beeping sounding off to your left, you were in a hospital room.

It also seemed that you were lying on a somewhat stiff bed, blankets covering you from the chest down, the weight of it revealing its presence. Aching for more information, you struggled with the dead weight of your form with a low groan, moving to prop yourself up on your left elbow.

From this position you could see the heart monitoring device clipped onto your index finger, along with an IV protruding from the top of your hand. Following the tube connected, your eyes landed on a bag of clear fluid hanging on a metal post behind you. The sudden movement catching up to you, a low throbbing formed in the back of your skull, prompting you to hold your head in the hand not secured with medical equipment.

Sighing, you weakly sat up fully in bed and saw that your clothing had been replaced with a hospital gown. You were still so out of it that the quiet sound of a light snoring noise to your right almost went unnoticed. But it didn’t, and you turned your head slowly to the source.

Awkwardly slumped in a cushioned chair to your right was a man, deep in slumber with his head hanging slightly to the side. You assessed his sleep induced state, eyes traveling over his features.

Long black hair hanging loose around his shoulders, mild eye bags, scar under his right eye.

Little by little your memory identified him as the same man who you’d assisted twice now at the floral boutique in which you worked at. What was his name again? It started with an s right? Sh...Shou….God, what was it?

“Shouta! Get up!” A loud voice boomed to your left, causing you to dizzily swerve your head in its direction. Standing in the doorframe of your single patient room was a tall, blond haired man carrying a bouquet of flowers in his right.

Present Mic, you thought, or rather Hizashi, something he made startlingly clear for you to call him.

Jarred awake at the disturbance, the once sleeping man sat up abruptly in his chair, eyes falling on your deeply rigid form.

And what exactly are they doing in your hospital room, much less alone with you while you were sleeping?

Most likely sensing the uncomfortableness mixed with confusion in your demeanor, Shouta spoke up. “I’m sorry, we don’t mean to alarm you in your state. I take it you’d like an explanation as to how you ended up here.”

Hizashi had found his way to the right side of your bed, not after setting the flowers down on a side table first. You waited a few more seconds, collecting your thoughts before responding.

“Um...yeah. That would be nice I guess.” You ended up croaking out the response from the dryness and lack of recent speaking.

The voice hero sat down on the edge of the bed, a small but warm smile on his face almost as if to ease your nerves. “Well songbird, your lucky Shouta and I found ya when we did last night. You’d gone and passed out while some nasty ol’ guys tried to attack you.”

There was a pause before his counterpart continued, giving you a moment to let the new information sink in. “We decided to go on patrol together for a few hours after leaving your shop. Our sources mentioned some criminal behaviour around the area you were in, so naturally we went there first.”

With these crucial bits of information revealed, you picked at your memories once again. Vaguely, the sounds of what you now presume to be fighting were the last things you can recall.

“And thank god we did. Ya must have been so frazzled that the scare put you to sleep. Can’t even begin to imagine what would’ve happened if you were alone.” Hizashi’s point didn’t make you feel better, but he was right, last night was a combination of your worst qualities happening all at once.

You must have visibly shuddered at that statement too, mind wandering to the plethora of possibilities those men could have gotten up to. “But nothing more happened, I can assure you. ‘Zashi and I dealt with the guys and called the police to pick them up. We were worried about your condition so he carried you to his car and drove you to the hospital before an ambulance arrived to save time, I stayed to wait for backup. You’ve been asleep since.”

Silently, you noted the reduced throbbing in your head, figuring the impact of your skull crashing into the pavement was to blame. And then it dawned on you, You’ve been here long enough to be changed into a gown and given an IV?

“Ah...exactly how long have I been asleep?” Your voice was shaky, weak even from just having woken up and still feeling the ache of fatigue.

Shouta decided to relay this piece of news, using a calm tone in an attempt to not alarm you. “The attack happened last night at around 9:15, it’s roughly 6:30 in the evening right now so you’ve been asleep for almost a whole day.”

Oh...well that’s definitely cause for concern. On the bright side it’s a new record! But, if that’s the case then how long have they been waiting for you to wake up…

If it was a long time then you’d feel bad for ruining their Friday night, and all of their Saturday. This realization alone was enough to give a skip in your heartbeat.

“I stayed with ya for a bit while Shou cleared some stuff up with the police, but I ended up gettin’ kicked out not too long after by the nurses cause of visitor hours being done and all that. We both came to check on you this morning and he’s stayed here since then. I just got ‘ere to switch shifts but whaddya know, our sunshine was up ‘n awake.”

Great...you thought, so you had ruined their day. You’d have to deal with making up for that later once you got out of this place, but for now...wait, our sunshine?

...Okay, just ignore it (y/n), he did save your life after all so a little shameless endearment can’t hurt, right?

“I’m really sorry for taking up so much of your time. You don’t have to stay any longer, I’m sure you guys are pretty busy.” You had no reason not to send them away, feeling horrible for making the two think they had to look after you. In addition to that, you barely knew the men outside of what kind of flowers they liked, so the unfamiliar circumstances were a little unsettling.

You could hear Shouta sigh at your dismissive response, to which you thought he was relieved to finally be sent home.

“If we were concerned about wasting our time we would have left a long time ago. We’re here because we want to be, not because we have to.”

Strangely, that didn’t make you feel any better. “Still, I feel bad for keeping you…”

There was a brief silence in the room, and if you weren’t currently hanging your head in shame then maybe you would’ve seen the subtle but conspiring looks exchanged between the two men.

The blond was the first to break the silence, something he seemed to be good at. “Well...if you’re feelin’ that bad there’s certainly a way to repay us.”

Your head perked up at the proposition, anxiety settling due to not knowing exactly what this repayment could entail.

Thankfully, Hizashi didn’t seem to want to watch you squirm with anticipation. “Why don’t ya stop by our place once you get out of here. Shouta and I’d love the extra company.”

His counterpart continued after a moment. “We always end up making more food than we need for dinner, the accommodation for one night would be no trouble.”

Naturally, the prospect of being asked to spend more time with these men after you’d already been such a burden was unexpected. You’d think after all this time it would only be normal to send you on your way. Yet, here they were, continuing to leave you stunned at their actions over and over again.

If this is what it takes to appease them, then so be it. Surely you can handle having dinner with them, right?

The two waited patiently for your response. It took a second, but you managed to gather your thoughts for a comprehensive answer. “I suppose… although I don’t see how this helps me repay you in any way.”

“Nonsense, songbird. Shou’ wouldn’t admit to it, but he’s been a bit worried that you’re not takin’ care of yourself, with all the work ya do. Nothing a good meal can’t fix, ya dig?” Hizashi positively beamed at your acceptance to the request, making it hard to deny him. Especially since, although silently, Shouta wished to see this through as much as him based on the explanation.

You smiled, the reassuring atmosphere easing the tension in your body. “If that’s really what you want then I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

It looked as if the erasure hero was about to speak, but before he could, a knocking on the door stopped him.

Waiting a moment before entering, a nurse opened the door. “I would’ve appreciated it if you two informed me immediately when she woke up.” She reprimanded the two heroes for their irresponsibility before making her way to the unoccupied side of your bed.

“I need to discuss some matters with the patient, why don’t you head home for the night.” She regarded the two without looking in their direction, instead examining the IV bag and writing something down on a clipboard.

You gave them an apologetic look, clearly they wanted to talk a bit longer than they were being allowed.

Shouta stood from the armchair, gathering his jacket in his arms with Hizashi following suit.

“We’ll see ya later, ‘kay sweetheart?” It seemed the blond simply had a habit of dishing out loving nicknames, and at this point you were getting used to it.

The erasure hero continued, “Get some rest, one of us will check up on you tomorrow morning.”

You managed out a quiet “Okay,” and they were gone before the nurse could scold them for taking up more time.

Finally having the privacy she needed, the nurse regarded your current state. “Okay then, hun. Let’s see how you’re doing.”

_____

The next hour or two was filled with various exams and consultations. You were told exactly what you’d been expecting. Which was basically along the lines of blacking out due to exhaustion combined with hitting the pavement pretty hard. You didn’t bother to mention that the occurrence was most likely also slightly induced by the sudden panic attack, figuring that it wasn’t quite as important.

At the end of the day you were told that in light of the situation and your poor health, it was necessary that you’d have to remain in the hospital for another day at least. After that it was a matter of judging whether your condition had improved.

You were brought dinner, barely regarding the dull taste as your hungered state simply couldn’t care less. Frankly, the after effects of the prolonged fatigue were still causing you to feel intensely drowsy, and so the rest of the night happened in a blur.

The next thing you knew, you’d settled back down to into your bed, ready to accept another long slumber.

End of Part 2

_____

taglist: @tjhonoluluprezstitch626

#yandere bnha #yandere erasermic #yandere bnha x reader #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere mha #yandere mha x reader #yandere eraserhead #yandere eraserhead x reader #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere shouta aizawa x reader #yandere hizashi yamada #yandere hizashi yamada x reader #yandere present mic #yandere present mic x reader #yandere

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dclevinson · 3 years

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August 21: my kaddish month

I’ve sent this to a number of people, but I’m putting it here too in case some readers who might be interested will stumble across it:

A little more than a month has passed since Cindy died, and I get asked a lot how I’m doing. My standard answer starts with a couple ways of framing:

--- the earthquake is over, but there are lots of unpredictable emotional aftershocks

--- I’m past the Shock & Numbness phase, but normal life doesn’t seem normal. Lots of How Can This Be Real moments that can be disorienting and distressing

--- many times emotions collide: how much to lean into or away from grief, how to feel it’s OK to feel OK when I do, how keep her with me and move forward too, etc

I suppose at some point a fascination with grief can start to make others uncomfortable, but grieving has a logic of its own. One key part of “after” life was the 30 days of daily religious services I attended to honor her memory. I found the routine and --- surprisingly, the ritual --- spiritually nourishing. Cindy’s eyebrows always shot up at the word “spiritual.” Usually mine too. I hope those of you I send these four pages to don’t find it too tedious Perhaps it’s a way of keeping Cindy in your thoughts and hearts too…

I am a most unlikely daily mourning ritual observer. I didn’t do it for my father, and he asked us not to. But the ritual mourning prayers and the place where I’d be doing it meant a lot to Cindy, so I just committed without much deliberation. One problem in writing about a fairly traditional type of observance is that the spectrum of Jewish religious practice can be mystifying, even to many Jews. So how explain it to outsiders? I’ve tried to do it without being either too reverent or irreverent.

One basic mourning commitment is to say “kaddish”, the mourner’s prayer, for a set amount of time. Jewish practice and custom is intellectually intricate and often arcane; there are rules and exceptions to rules and different interpretations of rules, etc. There are other customs/demands for remembrance too. Many think of saying kaddish as a year long commitment. Plus yearly anniversaries, set to a moving Hebrew calendar --- just to add to the degree of difficulty. But even the year thing has permutations: actual practice for some groups is 11 months, not 12.

Why?. Different interpreters and communities make their own choices on duration. Our ritual director says “eleven.” Basically, some 13th century source says that “the wicked in Gehinom took 12 months for their souls to reach the highest levels of heaven.” But most Jews don’t even believe in a physical heaven!? Never mind. So, the reasoning goes, if the wicked took 12 months, we’ll mourn for 11: because our beloved Was Not Wicked. Welcome to Talmudic reasoning. But, traditionally, the year(ish) is for parents and children. For spouses the allotted time is 30 days. Though many people today may just do a year for anyone in the family. Thirty struck me as the perfect amount for the act to stay meaningful, helpful and not something I would treat as an increasingly resented chore.

It’s not a prayer that religious custom allows you to say by yourself. You need a minyan (quorum) of 10. It used to be men, but now men or women, at least at our conservative temple (shul, synagogue, whatever --- more insider confusing terminology). But some do say it by themselves for the comfort it brings if finding a group is too arduous. And I cheated a couple days by joining the group virtually. But I found being with a gathering of supporters did matter to me. I could have gone to a shorter evening service to do this, but preferred the morning time. And came to think a 40ish minute observance time a good block to have meaningful daily impact.

And then there’s the prayer itself. I realized right away that the weekday morning prayer service had many different kaddishs, similar prayers of thanks for and praise to a divine entity. But there’s one specific mourner’s version, said 3 times in oour short 40ish minute service. Twice, almost in succession at the end --- overkill or emphasis, depending on your point of view. Why the repeats? Haven’t pursued that yet. And, as some of you know, the prayer for the dead doesn’t mention dying or losing loved ones or honoring their memory, etc. It just profusely praises God (and lots of different words or phrases to refer to such entity since he/she/it is too holy and all powerful to mention the Real Name). Some phrases: “May god’s name be exalted and hallowed, his sovereignty soon accepted… glorified, celebrated, lauded, worshiped, exalted, honored, extolled and acclaimed… Lots of current Jewish religious practice incorporates the Middle Ages wholesale. Or earlier. Read the English on the facing page of the prayer book and much of the service sounds like the practice of a small, threatened tribe huddling in the desert thousands of years ago.

There’s a lot about Jewish practice that seems natural and essential to practitioners but might alienate the uninitiated. Or reluctant observers like me. The head coverings. The shoulder covering prayer shawls. The standing for this (many do: why not all??!), turning right for that, covering eyes for this line, fingering prayer shawl strings (tzitzit) for that. Whew. So many prayers and practices for so many different occasions. Designed, I’ve thought, to cement the devotion of believers. But it repel skeptics, too, I surmise.

One such example: in these early services most men put on tefillin. Leather straps with little black boxes attached (a prayer inside) that have very specific wrapping/unwrapping procedures for arms and head. It’s deeply moving to believers, but I’ve always thought it look repellent or ridiculous. Way too much like the garb of the ultra orthodox “crazies.” There are lots of I’ll do this/not that decisions in religious practice. I understand there’s a tenuous dynamic that exists between any minority and majority community, and clinging to tradition and being true to oneself can seem preferable to “selling out” to fit in. But sometimes it strikes us skeptics as more a clinging to “guns and religion” type intransigence.

So, if you walked in on these services cold (I was lukewarm), there’s lots that would be pretty mystifying and potentially off-putting. How could you possibly fit in? In fact, I believe I was the only new guy or gal over my month. And there had to be a decent number of temple members who have lost family members during the time I attended. Seemingly no person younger than I was doing the morning kaddish thing. And usually I was the only or 1 of 2 who didn’t put on tefillin. Men. Women usually don’t. Though one of our female rabbis did. Good for her, though I wasn’t tempted to follow.

I could fit in and feel comfortable at these services because a) I knew people there b) I was committed to being there and c) people took care of me. I no longer bristled at the imputation (real or just in my head?) that I’m a Bad Jew and I need instruction to be a Good One. This time I felt many there had cherished Cindy, understood why I was there, and quietly welcomed me. I was willing to look/be ignorant and accept guidance.

It was reassuring to see many of Cindy’s compatriots from the temple sisterhood there day after day too. The whole group (20 to 40 most days) was interesting to observe: lots more joking and side conversations during the service than I’d imagined. And there was the guy older than I who usually wore cycling shorts and shirt, the much older guy who sat to my right who usually shuffled in 15 minutes late, etc etc. Lots of accomplished people and interesting stories for another writer’s version. And --- most days --- someone called out the pages so I had some sense where we were.

I can read Hebrew if I already know the prayer or chant. So I can’t really read Hebrew anymore. Much of the service is praising God’s amazing powers, thanking him for singling out and helping Jews (don’t let anti-Semites see this!), an intricate mix of different intricate sections that over days start to fit a pattern. There are a always some bits in any prayer book that I find edifying and worth recalling; often I’m reading in one place when the service is in another. My favorite in this one:

Rabbi Schuel ben Nahmani said: We find that the Holy One created everything in the world; only falsehood and exaggeration were not God’s doing. People devised those on their own.

There’s no sermon on any days, just the chanting. And different melodies for different sections. And torah reading ritual (I could spend pages on this alone) Monday and Thursday. I still have to learn why those days. I preferred the shorter days without.

I was most fortunate to have a long time neighbor and, like Cindy, long time temple leader who I was delighted to learn (only some 30 some years later) is a regular attendee of daily morning services. Like Cindy, he has the ability I don’t to take what’s worthwhile in religious practice and ignore the rest. He credits Cindy with his reading the new alternate section of one prayer praising the Patriarchs (Abraham, Isaac, Jacob) by adding Matriarchs too.

It’s not supposed to be used at this particular service, but a couple women who led services on a rotating schedule snuck it in. Much to my friend Rick’s and my glee. He joked about wanting to write: Minyan, the Musical. Have to decide how reverent or irreverent to be I replied. Yes he said, and some would love it, some hate it. Like so much else in life, I thought.

There’s way more I could describe: the various “honors” during torah reading for one. Early on I got congratulated for pulling the strings to open the torah ark/cabinet. Basically, the only task our ritual director could be sure at that point I wouldn’t flub. One more key detail: I was wearing Cindy remarkable hand knit prayer shawl. Which, of course, many of her friends recognized. Once I made the mistake when taking it off at the service end of holding it to my face: way too emotional to repeat daily. Much more detail I could include, but there’s likely already too much. Ask me if you want more.

I was asked to say a few words on the last day, right before the concluding prayers. I told people I was a most unlikely minyan attendee, etc. Grateful for this and that person’s help and Rebbe Rick’s (joke) guidance and company. Uplifted seeing Cindy’s sisterhood comrades, etc. Hoped in coming months to find an enduring way to honor her memory, etc.

My one specific observation: I had been hearing people recite kaddish at Saturday services off and on for over 60 years. But I’d never given a thought to the brief parts where the congregation joins in on a quick line. Just part of the practice I’d heard without really hearing. Until I was the mourner. Then, on many days when the congregation joined in…

Y’he sh’meh rabbvo m’orach l’olam ulolmey olmayo…

…on many days I felt my heart lifting and a wave of emotional support wash over me. This is why you should say kaddish in a minyan if at all possible. Or I hope in your tradition or life there’s some equivalent thing to bring you comfort when/if you need it. Em and I have been lighting candles at a set time each week also. That works for us too.

The morning group skews old. But I hope that such a group is always there for anyone who needs it. I don’t want to attend any religious services daily. Or weekly. But this is my favorite service. I’ll be back. But on a day they don’t read torah. Forty minutes is plenty.

I decided, too, that on day 30, I would take off my wedding ring. I sensed that if I didn’t tie that act to a ritual I might have a hard time doing it.

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yeoldontknow · 3 years

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💌interview tag

tagged by the loveliest, brightest angels @chillingkoo and @onherwings to do this fun tag. thank you so so much my loves!!

Rules: answer the questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better!

Name/nickname: kat

Pronouns: she/her

Star sign: aquarius sun, leo moon, aries rising

Height: 162cm or 5′4″

Time currently: 9.29am

When is your birthday: january 23

Favourite band/groups: kpop - exo, tvxq, bts, monsta x, shinee, twice, itzy, ateez, knk, cix, exid, sistar, seventeen

other: tool, puscifer, IAMX, white lies, elbow, ghost, nothing but thieves, official hige dandism, deftones, nick cave & the bad seeds, readiohead, the cure etc etc this list is endless

Favourite solo artist: kpop - chanyeol solo works, chung ha, lee hi, iu, jongdae solo works, wonho

other: uppermost, xavier omar, masago, sza, doja cat, mansur brown, laurel, david bowie, prince, patrick watson, elijah blake, harry styles

Song Stuck in Your Head: comptine d’un autre ete l’apres midi - yann tiersen

Last Movie You Watched: pieces of a woman (oof, i dont even know if i enjoyed it but damn)

Last Show You Binged: the night stalker documentary

When You Created Your Blog: april 30, 2017

Last Thing You Googled: asus z97-e (im building a computer and my dad keeps giving me parts he has lying around lmao)

Other Blogs: @yeoldontknowiread - my fic recs blog

Why I chose my url: because....yeol does not, in fact, know that i write all this fanfiction lmao (at least i hope???)

Do you get asks: sometimes! sometimes theres a bunch, other times theres none for a while. sometimes theres pressuring asks and other times theres things i just delete because i dont want the energy on my blog. its a grab bag really

How Many People Are You Following: 350

How Many Followers Do You Have: some

Average Hours of Sleep: god this also depends...on the weekday, around 5-7 (the weighted blanket helps so much i actually normally get that 7 unless its a really bad anxiety day. can you believe im up from 3-4???) on the weekends its about 10 or 11

Lucky Numbers: 16, 61

Instruments: violin and voice. i can sight read basic piano so long as i can find middle c. some guitar but not enough to be proficient

What I’m Currently Wearing: old university sweatpants, my “hex the racists” t-shirt, and a purple zip hoodie

Dream job: music supervision for major motion pictures; published author; subtitle operations at netflix; some other off the wall creative job that allows me to travel, make art, write, take photos, eat food with some sense of stability and health insurance lmao

Dream trip: go back to japan to see the north (hokkaido) and the south (fukuoka or kagoshima); australia/new zealand; hawaii

Favorite food: asian food hands down. korean, indian, japanese, arab, armenian - truly, its all so comforting and filling for me. i love it so much. its a warmth that comes from inside.

Favorite song: asjfdoiajfo? how am i meant to pick just one?? uh....ill go with the song im obsessed with right now -- The Bones of a Dying World - If These Trees Could Talk

Top Three Fictional Universes You’d Like To Live In: omg lmaooo probably post war harry potter; sailor moon; any ghibli world

tagging: @yehet-me-up @jamaisjoons @yoonia @shadowsremedy @kyungseokie @jenmyeons @j-pping @delhyun @loeybeans @kimtaehyunq @ditzymax @yeojaa @snackhobi @sahmfanficbts @hobi-gif @xjoonchildx @bratkook @imdifferentshadesofpurple @softyoongiionly @jinterlude and anyone else who wants to do this! as always please only do so if you wish!

#interview tag

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banyeet · 4 years

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Studying Tips from a Bad Student

Print out your syllabus.

Carry it with you. Highlight readings when they are assigned and cross them off as you complete them.

Put in the dates of all your assignments the first day of class. Make special note of overlapping assignments/exams. 3 midterms and 2 papers due during the same week? Better to know 2 months in advance instead of 2 days.

Pick 1 office hour for each class that works with your schedule.

I never ever went to office hours before becoming an adult. Honestly, I hate commuting, and I don’t like spending my free time on campus. So if I’m going to attend tutorials or office hours, there better be a damn convenient time for me to go.

Pick one time for each professor that you feel like you don’t mind attending, and highlight/write down that information where it’s easily accessible to you. Do this during the first week of classes.

If you can’t find a regular office hour time that works for you, immediately contact your prof or TA to ask how they feel about e-mailed questions or scheduled appointments for when you need help. Once you hear back with their alternative, make note of it in that same accessible place so you know what your options are when you have questions.

Take notes by hand.

I type way faster than I can write, and I’m sure a lot of you are the same. This is partly because your brain isn’t processing what you’re writing down in the same way as when you physically write it out. Trust me, it makes a difference.

Also, I found that if I handwrite notes, I am more likely to go back and look at them again later on. What I like to do is write the notes out in class, and then review them either that night or the following day and highlight, bold things, doodle relevant icons, generally make them look pretty. That way, you’re reviewing them but it’s also fun. Spend some time before the semester starts to get a pen you like to write with, and maybe some coloured highlighters and post-it notes. Interesting things are easier to keep looking at.

Don’t write out exactly what’s on the slide.

First off, if your professor isn’t the type to post slides before/after a lecture, ask if that is a possibility. There isn’t always time to write everything down during lecture, so it helps if you are able to fill in the information you missed after class. If you don’t want to ask in person, an email is usually okay.

Listen to what is being said in relation to the points on the slide. Usually, what’s written on the slide doesn’t even make that much sense, because it’s only enough information for your professor to remember what they wanted to say. Or it’s written in a way that is unclear to you, so you might want to word it differently so you understand it during review.

Once you get the main point of what you’re suppose to learn, write it down in your own words. When studying, you can compare your own notes to the posted lecture slides. See if they still make sense when compared to each other. Flag things that don’t make sense, so you can ask for clarification during office hours.

Block time.

Plan time every day for school work, even if nothing is due. It doesn’t have to be much. Maybe 45 minutes on weekdays, and 2 hours on Saturdays and Sundays.**I’m taking 2 classes (and working 37 hours a week) right now, so obviously if you’re taking 8 classes you’ll need a little more than 45 minutes a day lmao.

Stick to it; hold it in high priority. Avoid making plans during your blocked time as much as possible. For example, if you have Saturdays blocked from 11am to 1pm, and your friend wants to have lunch at 12:30, ask to reschedule for after 1pm. It might not shock you that this isn’t a deal breaker in most cases.

Plan leisure time.

Do your friends typically like to go out on Friday nights? Do you like to play video games or watch a show during a certain time of the week? Remove those time-slots from the equation (i.e. Friday from 8pm to Saturday at 11am no longer exist in your schedule).

Plan your blocked time around that. That way, you never have to feel guilty about having fun during that time, because it wasn’t available for schoolwork in the first place. **obviously do this in moderation. Don’t block off 10am-10pm every day for dicking around, or you won’t have time for anything else.

Plan to procrastinate.

If you are an avid procrastinator like me, plan time for it. One thing I learned quickly about functioning as an adult is to plan everything. E V E R Y T H I N G. If you don’t plan for it, it’s either

a) not happening, or b) happening anyway and fucking up your whole schedule.

So start homework and assignments way early. I was terrible at estimating time. Things I thought would take me 25 minutes usually ended up taking me 2 hours. Dinner plans I thought would end at 8pm ended up lasting until 10pm. But only finishing 30% of what you planned to get done isn’t the end of the world when you started 2 weeks earlier than you normally would. You have more blocked time tomorrow. **don’t let this happen every day. As I mentioned, your blocked time should take priority over everything else as a general rule.

Print off assignment criteria.

Nothing pisses me off like losing marks on technicalities. The layout of your arguments wasn’t in the right order. Your essay only hit 3 of the 5 points it was meant to. You cited in MLA instead of APA format. You were mean to include information from a list of specific sources, not ones that you found in the database yourself. None of that is an indication of whether you understood the material or not.

So before you start,

print the criteria, and read it thoroughly.

Read it again, this time highlighting things you feel are important to hit.

Most importantly, keep it next to you any time you are working on your assignment. Refer back to it often, especially if you feel stuck or run into an obstacle.

When you’re done, check off the highlighted instructions as you confirm that you’ve met them.

#school #universtiy #college #unsolicited advice #studying #study tips #procrastination #adult adhd #adhd

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beyondthetemples-ooc · 3 years

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Owl House s2e4

I keep wanting to post my “““liveblog”““ commentary on this one but it made me Too Emotional to do my usual raving. (My threshold for verbiage when I’m Actually Feeling Emotions is waaay low, okay. At a certain point, I legitimately can’t Make Words Fit the Feelings. So I never figured out what I really want to say about this episode.)

But with my spoon count being critically low lately and the fact that I’m now 3 episodes behind, I just want to post it As Is and get caught up!

So here’s my commentary with Massive Spoilers for “Keeping Up A-Fear-Ances”!

I have a Lot of Questions alongside the feelings, too.

Oooh, stone backstory? Unexpected but welcome.

So uhh. Where did Lilith get her blue stone? Just the "fashionable" thing?

"We have never seen a curse quite like this."

I want to know who came up with this crock of horrible. Had they ever experimented with it on someone else? The demon equivalent of animal testing? Is it lesser curses combined like the unholy glyph amalgamation Eda created?

Upon rewatch: I'm realizing this is where she probably got the idea to use potions for it! Overhearing the Healing Coven guy recommending it. Eda Actually Implemented the Healer’s Advice, and LO. IT MADE A DIFFERENCE.

Oh wow, I'm not very good at gauging visuals, but Eda must have run away quite young.

The poster on the bottom right.

The hair. The guyliner.

Eda listened to emo boy bands, apparently.

Guh.

I Will Never Look Upon Sharp Iron Railings The Same Way Ever Again.

(it’s a Locked Tomb thing. It’s a Pavlovian reaction. It’s also a Nexus thing and it’s also Big Emotional. HHHHFF)

...Oh. Huh. So... the suitcase kinda just. Came out of nowhere?

THE ALARM CLOCK HAD A HEART.

First Hooty, now this thing?

Eda's morning routine looks so much like me on weekdays.

The fridge just says "C O O L".

"I had no idea this is what I did to you. I am so, so sorry."

Big :C Feelings. Too big for me to write about, but I'm feeling them.

"What? Suddenly curious about my past?"

"Always. ALWAYS curious."

Oh, dang, me too. Definitely me too.

(Give me ALL the worldbuilding! All the character developement! All the lore! All the random little bits of trivia that makes this world so CHARMING. But especially about the Clawthornes.)

...What's that thing on Gwendolyn's wrist? Right wrist? It kinda reminds me of flan. Or maybe a banana split.

I feel like it's maybe a coven mark, but I can't tell what it is, let alone which one it's for. She joined the Beast Coven, right?

"And who knows what they put in those nasty concoctions."

"Actually, I do."

So why doesn't she make her own, then? Why does she have to buy them from an elixir guy if she knows what's in them?

(Then again, I know what's in my medications and supplements, but that doesn't mean I can grow my own valerian and rhodiola and make my own vitamins and CERTAINLY can't make my own prescription meds, even if I theoretically Know How.)

...I am so very glad that my mother doesn't treat me like Gwendolyn treats Lilith. My father's kinda... ehhhh. It's super complicated with him... and don't even get me started on my stepmother.

But my mother WILL go out of her way to spend time with me, wants to talk to me, frequently asks how my week's going, helps me figure things out, or just talk... and it's really nice to have her.

Gwen, basically: I'll only help you if you help me.

Does she really need Luz's help that bad? Would she have helped her if Luz couldn't give her anything in return? And really, what DOES Luz offer her?

...squints.

Squints real hard.

What use does a healer need with those powerful artifacts?

Big Distrust.

(Post-rewatch reaction: V I N D I C A T I O N . )

Snowy Ribcage, Swampy Toes, Palm Stings?

So the Giant (Titan?*) that comprises Boiling Isles isn't just a decoration, it's used for geography. We've seen, if I remember correctly, the ribcage and (leg bones, maybe?), but this tells us the skeletal remains may indeed be complete!

(* I've been following a theory that it's the bones of The Titan they venerate, possibly even where their magic comes from. That does beg questions on how it died, if it's even really dead, and how long it's been there if it's so decayed. How long before there was life on the corpus?)

"didn't even stick around to watch you hatch"-- I mean, to be fair, from the sound of it, with King saying "something happened" (but he was too small to do anything), he probably WANTED to stick around and watch him hatch, But Something Happened.

"Knife season came early this year."

STKFGHNLDLVJAI. Speaking of charming lore. Knife season?

...the... night market... even has ice cream? I mean I'm glad they get to experience ice cream on The Boiling Isles, but now I'm seriously trying to figure out what it tastes like.

Especially "Franken-Fruit".

Oh no.

Baby's first transformation. <:c

....what happens if the "inner beast" catches inner Eda? Is that her way of fighting the curse even when she's “overtaken”?

Is Gwen saying "sweet flea", right, not "sweet glee"?

"Still got it!"

So it looks like Mama's where Eda gets at least some of her power from, huh?

And/or cleverness that kept Eda on the run.

How many times has Mama Clawthorne done this, I wonder?

.......So Mama Gwen has both beastkeeping magic, and could summon those tiles, which seems like it would be more construction coven magic?

Does this count as a kaiju fight? (probably not because they're not big enough. But the thought amused me.)

"Dang. That is GOOD elixir."

Miracle in a bottle, love.

(I know the feel because when they finally FINALLY tried the meds that actually WORK with my absolutely miserable stomach condition, the relief just to be able to do things normally SOMETIMES is so immense. When you spend so long desperate to make it stop and it just, doesn't, after trying *so many things*, when you finally find something that works even just MOST of the time, you take it and you keep it as close as you can.)

I don't really have the spoons to get into it or even figure out how to Do Vague Emoting right now, but every Gwendolyn is saying in the last quarter of the episode is Making Me Emotional. (Especially when she's calming her daughters. T~T)

"Titan's Blood"? Bones I get, but where do they get the blood??? (I want to say it's a plant sap or something, like dragon's blood, but I don't want to commit to it.)

Not the only human to have lived in Bonesborough? "Titan's Blood"?

Why am I thinking Emperor Belos? (He seems to need some sort of... ichor... to power him. Like artificial witch bile, maybe.)

Although, Gwen talks about her "great grandmother" telling her about this other human. 50 years (of Belos' rule) could be two or three generations, more like two really, but we don't know how old Belos is, or really where he comes from. He could have been that human her great-grandmother knew about before he became Emperor.

Also, the fact that "Titan's blood" can cause leaks BOTH ways... Doppelganger Luz?

Real question is, was she an INTENTIONAL plant, or an accidental leak?

The Suitcase Portal can be opened intentionally, so can Titan's Blood be used intentionally, too? (Is the Suitcase Portal powered by Titan's Blood?)

"Someday MY hair is gonna be big enough to do that, too."

Girl's got a dream!

(And King's "You actually WANT that?" made me grin.)

So they even reincorporated the fire bees from s2e1! But have they addressed what happened with the scrying potion Lilith made up for them? What did they see? Anything worth mentioning? Or was the narrative framing meant to be more about Lilith Making The Gesture than The Discoveries?

#the owl house #toh s2e4 #keeping up a fear ances #rhs the owl house

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why-are-you-even-here-tho · 3 years

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okay people. i’m gonna be spitting a lot of Words. because i’m feeling a lot of Feelings at the moment and i don’t know how to express them through any other methods so. yeah.

this is just gonna be me venting so. probably wouldn’t recommend reading but idk u do u i guess. i put most of the things that i think are triggers in the tags, but i’m actual shit at tagging so. if literally anything is gonna affect you negatively just. don’t read. i can’t tag everything and yeah. idk. to the cut now i guess. bye.

hi lmaooo what the fUCK am i writing lmaoo

so. first. my past week has been fucking shit.

first, i was super fuckin stressed cause i had chair placement auditions for band, a 70 point spanish vocab test, and a 5-7 minute presentation of elizabethan crime and punishment all due in the span of two fucking hours on wednesday. and my stepmother. has the fucking a u d a c i t y. to tell me that i’m actually only allowed to study (on my computer, where everything is) for one hour after school each day. like honey i can’t control what i’m fuckin assigned. and she’s already shitty with me cause she thinks that i’m not doing anything when i’m on my computer (which, despite what you all have seen of me, is not true lmao). so she’s super fuckin dumb about that.

second. my chickens. which i call my chickens because, up until recently, i was the only person that did jack shit for those fuckin birds. literally. stepmother bought the food and sold the eggs. maybe went outside once every couple weeks. it pissed me off but you know. whatever. that’s not even what i’m talking about this time. but she goes out there, before i do my daily stuff for them, and comes back in- whirlwind if pissed off cause the stuff isn’t done. like honey i haven’t done that yet. and she gets bitchy cause i haven’t done it yet and starts to go on about how she knew that i secretly hated the chickens and that she bet that i intentionally fucking killed some of them (cause a few of them actually disappeared this week)?? like what in the fUCK??? i would never fuckin do that??? and i love hearing her complain about what food and water is full to the top as if she bothers doing literally anything to help with them. so i’m now not even allowed in my own fucking backyard because apparently i’m a fuckin serial chicken killer. fuck that.

third. i had. the audacity to forget an entire assignment. and stepmother dearest sees it. and goes fuckin apeshit. i am the epitome of disrespectful and useless and such a little bitch and stupid and do i need someone to go with me to school every day and hold my hand and remind me to breathe? and like. i can take that, in a way. it’s the normal shit i get from this woman. what really, for some odd reason, got me this time? when she asked, i think completely sincerely, actually, if there was some sort of implant that could make me better. like bitch. i’m not a fucking dog, you don’t need to fucking chip me so you know where i am all the time. i’m not a fucking robot that needs a fucking upgrade so that my fucking memory is better. i haven’t really said anything to her (or anyone really) about this (cause i don’t fuckin trust her not to give me shit because of it) but i have. a fuckin Issue. with fuckin dehumanization. and that hit. every single fucking button. so i’m fucking pissed and just decide that hey. i’m gonna go to my room for a minute. so i don’t fucking murder my dad’s wife. and i get shit for that too!!! like what in the fUCK???? and now i’m at my grandma’s for some length of time. in fuckin exile.

fourth, because i feel like it’s its own thing. my stepmom. as i’m going to my grandma’s for my tommyinnit arc. stops me for a minute. uses her “i’m being genuine (lie) and just trying to make you understand my point of view (with the attitude that it is the only one that matters cause yeah) because being me is hard :(” voice. tells me. “I just want to help you, but you being here makes me think about hurting myself.” which. yes, i understand is not a thing to just dismiss. i do kinda feel shitty about it. but also. 2 things. one, she said it in such a tone of voice that practically screamed “this is a lie to make you feel like shit”. and two, she?? also does this?? to me??? like honey. the blood on the inside of the thighs of my pants and the pocketknife blade hidden in my jewelry box are saying a bit more about “thinking about hurting myself” than you, sitting there on the couch, rewatching game of thrones for the third time. i sound like an asshole in this bit. but i’m just. fuckin angry.

fuckin angry and fuckin pissed at myself. cause maybe if i didn’t fuck that assignment up, i’d not be in so much trouble. if i did the chicken stuff earlier that day i’d be at home still. if i could focus more in class my parents might not be as easy to piss off. if i were just. better. if i were not. like this. if i could do more than just “try to” change. if i could look at my issues and actually work to fix them rather than staying up till midnight on a weekday, spending over an hour typing a fucking essay about the shit i’ve been through this week that nobody is gonna read. maybe even if i just. weren’t here.

i wasn’t supposed to exist. there were. so many signs. telling my parents that they shouldn’t have kids. one - the fact?? that my mom had no less than four miscarriages??? before she got pregnant with me??? one would think that they may stop trying after like. two. and my mom already had one son! it was with her first husband (red flag right there lmao) but she had! a kid! already! why go through all that pain? idk. i’m not, and never will be, a parent. two - my parents! actually did! decide to stop trying! to have a kid! and then my bitchy little -9 month old ass was like “hey bitches are you ready for 16 years of hell?” three - there were so many issues with my (i mean. not mine but the only one i’ve been involved in) pregnancy. like. mom got badly sick like. 3 times. she told me one day that her doctor told her that it would be healthier for me? if she kept smoking while she was pregnant???? so that’s fun. and i’m positive that it was not just nicotine. yeah. fun. don’t necessarily have an issue with weed but like. bro. you’re pregnant. no thanks. four - i was a cesarean. not that that’s really an issue. but. i felt like it might go on here. five - i refused! to breathe! on my own! for almost 24 hours! this might have meant something!!!!!

i don’t even know what i’m writing anymore honestly. i’m feeling emotions and i hate it. it’s midnight. i’ve spent over an hour writing this. why am i not working on my fic. bye.

i would like access to alcohol please lmao

#ask to tag #tw caps #caps tw #murder tw #tw murder #tw sh #sh tw #tw self harm #self harm tw #tw smoking #smoking tw #tw alcohol #alcohol tw #istg every other word in this is fuck lmao #oops

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fangirlxwritesx67 · 4 years

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Looking For A Black Cat

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3, 1550 words. Sam x Rowena, side of Dean. Memory loss, cute animals, food, and fluff.

Your name is Sam Winchester. You are a soldier who lost your memory in a battlefield injury. It is Wednesday, so you volunteer at the animal shelter today.

Sam found himself mouthing the words along with the electronic voice coming from his phone. Good, he remembered that much. It was going to be a good brain day, maybe even better than normal.

He showered and shaved, dressed in his usual uniform of jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. Why he owned so many was a mystery to him, but they were comfortable, especially on cool fall days like this.

He was ahead of the voice on the phone, headed to the kitchen for a smoothie, where he discovered Dean eating a plate full of pie and ice cream. Dean, his brother, was the one person he never forgot. He had been injured at the same time and the same way as Sam. The two of them did their best to support and help one another.

Memories of the day before came flooding back. It had been a bad brain day, one of the worst, the kind that only happened a couple of times a year. Helpless and frightened, he had knocked his head on the shared wall of their duplex. At the time, he hadn’t realized what he was doing, but the sound had been enough to summon his brother.

Had Dean slept over? Maybe that was why he was in his kitchen eating dessert at 730 in the morning.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam asked as he poured himself a cup of the coffee his brother had made.

“I was out of food so I came over to see what you had.” His words were light but his face reflected his concern. That was typical Dean, always downplaying his role in caring for others.

Sam rolled his eyes, wordlessly reassuring his brother that he was fine. “Or you could, you know, go grocery shopping.”

“But you’re better at grocery shopping than I am! Besides, why did you buy apple pie and ice cream if it wasn’t for me? You know that’s my favorite thing.”

Sam did, in fact, not know that, but it sounded right. As he headed to the fridge, he looked more closely at the shopping list hanging there. At the bottom of his neatly organized shopping list, cross referenced with a weekly meal plan, it said: PIE That was definitely not his handwriting.

“Dean.” He turned and smiled fondly at his brother, who grinned happily.

“Thanks for remembering, big guy. Hey, don’t you have to go to work? Go snuggle some puppies or something?”

It is time to leave the house. It is time for your shift at the animal shelter.

The electronic voice cut in before they could argue further. Sam shook his head and grabbed his keys. His GPS gave him directions but he seemed to know where he was going so he tuned out as he drove.

If it was going to be a good brain day, then maybe, just maybe- Sam tried his hardest to push his mind back, to discover anything from his past. But everything before his injury was a blank.

Whoever he had been before, whatever he had done, was buried. The only thing he ever got was flashes in his nightmares, faces and flames that crumbled into ash the minute he woke up. No matter how hard he tried, his past was lost to him. He had his brother, and he got out alive. Maybe that was enough.

“Hey, Winchester,” his boss Billie greeted him. He wondered, sometimes, how much she knew. She was always patient, always generous and gave him all the help he needed. A warm smile lit her beautiful brown face.

“I have a grant-writing seminar to attend, Sam, so it’s up to you today. You good with that?” Before she left, she pointed him to the drawer in the filing cabinet that had his name.

The neatly organized rows of folders looked familiar, each one with the name of a cat or dog that was waiting to find a home. He looked through them, recognizing his own handwriting. He had made meticulous notes that would help an animal get adopted and help their new humans care for them.

There was also a bell, and a sign that at one point he must’ve made. With the Animals Ring Bell for Service

Like most weekdays, it was a slow day. Walking back into the rooms full of animal cages felt like coming home. The sounds of the animals, barks and yelps and even a few eager mews, were welcoming. Even the smells of fur and cleaner and animals were earthy and grounding.

The dog room was the largest, cages lining both sides. He took his time with each one, petting them and giving them attention. Once he was done with the dogs, he moved on to the cats. Cats were more of a mystery, less outwardly affectionate. He spoke to them softly, even the ones who seemed to ignore him.

At lunchtime, a man came in with his little girl. He and his wife had adopted a dog over the weekend, but something wasn’t quite right. The man told Sam how his new dog could barely sleep, could hardly eat, always seemed to be looking for something.

Sam nodded. Even without consulting his notebook, he knew which dog that was - one of a bonded pair. The two dogs had been kept in adjoining cages and let out in the yard for playtime together. When one was fed, they waited for the other to eat. When they slept, they curled up so their backs were touching through the wire mesh of the cages.

The family was already vetted, so it was easy for Sam to approve the second adoption. He smiled as he watched father and daughter leave with the dog and imagined the reunion that would happen when they got home. He wondered, sometimes, if he and Dean were like that, a bonded pair, unable to really exist without the other.

After that, he was alone again until it was almost closing time.

The red-headed woman who stepped through the door instantly drew his attention. Not only was she strikingly attractive, but she had a presence that seemed to fill the room. Her bright smile was the most beautiful thing he could remember seeing.

“I’m Rowena and I’m looking for-

“-a black cat. I know.” Sam didn't know exactly how he knew that, but it seemed right, and she nodded approvingly.

He gestured towards the cat room and she led the way. He couldn’t help watching her as she walked, the precise rhythm of her steps, the easy sway of her hips. No, that seemed rude. When they got to the row of cages, she turned to face him and he felt his breath catch in his throat. She was stunning, with big green eyes and a profile like a cameo piece.

“No!” Rowena stomped one heel, startling him with her sudden flash of temper. “These are the same cats you had last week. I don’t want kittens, or ginger cats, or any other common moggie. I need a black cat.”

Sam was taken aback, but he had to try. “Ma’am, have you ever met Mamacita?”

She crossed her arms and pouted. “Is she some secret black cat you’ve been keeping from me?”

“Well, no, she’s not a black cat. But maybe, just, look at her?” He couldn’t say why this cat and this woman needed to meet. Maybe it was something he had known and forgotten. Maybe not. But he gestured to the cage that held the reclusive calico.

Rowena hardly had to bend down to see the cat in her cage. The cat hissed, as expected. Then to Sam’s surprise, she called and Mamacita came closer. She kept her distance, still, but seemed interested.

“Ohhh,” the woman cooed softly. “I see. You’re a mama cat, aren’t you, but you’ve lost your kittens and your home. You’re scared because you don't know who you are anymore.”

Rowena slipped her delicate fingers through the bars of the cage and Sam watched in shock as Mamacita approached. At first, the cat was suspicious, sniffing the painted nails, but then gave in and leaned into the woman’s hand.

The two of them spent several moments in quiet communication before Rowena stood up. Shaking her skirts and tossing her curls, she set her chin.

“A lovely tortoiseshell, no doubt. But I need a black cat. I’ll be back next week, as always. I hope you’ll have one for me then.”

It was closing time, so Sam locked the door behind her as she left. The room seemed suddenly empty, darker without her. He stood there for a moment, trying to sort out the swirl of thoughts and feelings in his mind. Who was she? Why did it seem like he should know her?

As always.

He must’ve seen her here before. That explained why she looked familiar. It didn’t explain why he was so drawn to her, why he felt almost bewitched in her presence. It certainly didn’t explain the sense of loss that came over him when she was gone. He shook his head slowly. It was something he would never know.

Stay tuned for 3 more chapters of this story!

Thanks to @mskathywriteswords for the preread and encouraging me to see where this story goes!

SPN First Last and Always: @boondoctorwho @dawnie1988 @deanwanddamons @defenderrosetyler @defenderrosetyler @emoryhemsworth @fookinghelljensensthighs @idreamofplaid @kalesrebellion @kickingitwithkirk @maddiepants @magssteenkamp @onethirstyunicorn @there-must-be-a-lock @tloveswriting

Sam Girl For Life: @awesomesusiebstuff @lilsylvia @winchesterxfamilybusiness

Dean Curious:@adoptdontshoppets @awesomesusiebstuff @deangirl7695 @deans-baby-momma @mrsjenniferwinchester @stoneyggirl @wayward-gypsy @winchesterxfamilybusiness

Rowena My Queen: @delightfullykrispypeach @lilsylvia @marril96 @pansexualdarling @songofthecagedmoose

#looking for a black cat #sam x rowena #rowena fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #winchester brothers fanfiction

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phoebehalliwell · 4 years

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I loved your cataloguing all of prue’s potential kids!! Like the detail that went into it is *chef kiss* I can’t wait to see what story you come with with Sheridan and Warren! Also, that post got me thinking, what do you think would have happened had Andy become a whitelighter and come back? How do you think that would have effected his and Prue’s hypothetical kids? Like would one of them been the twice-blessed do you think?

it’s 2.2k under the cut bc idk how to shut up

okay so for a whitelighter!andy & prue i think The Move would be like in the s3 finale the source has tempus reverse time but then like idk knocks out leo or whatever because he knows that without him there both prue and piper will die from their injuries what he doesn’t know is that there’s a certain other whitelighter who will watch from the fringes check in but not interfere for risk of being caught going against the rules but when he sees piper and prue inches from death and no way leo can get to them in time, andy has to make a choice. he has to heal them. oh but now we have the elders all pissy because whitelighters are only supposed to work with their own charges their not supposed to run around freelance healing other people’s charges that’d be chaos so clearly there needs to be some consequences and andy’s ready to like gracefully take whatever’s dealt out to him and prue’s like I Think The Fuck Not and like goes to bat for andy talking about how she would have been dead without him how the charmed ones would be gone without him really rains hell down on the elders so they’re like ᵒᵏᵃʸ ᶠᶦⁿᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗᵉᵛᵉʳ ʷᵉ ʷᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵖᵘⁿᶦˢʰ ʰᶦᵐ ᶦᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ˢᵒ ʳᵘᵈᵉ blah blah blah so prue and andy talk in the heavens and it’s sorta awkward at first bc prue’s like so. you’re not dead. that’s good. bc you know. you’re not dead. and andy’s like yeah. but like he’s reading the subtext here bc he Knows prue and she’s saying i’m so happy your alive but i’m really hurt that you never told me. that i mourned you and thought you were gone forever but you weren’t you were right there. and andy’s not entirely sure what to say bc like. what was he supposed to do. and he understands how prue feels but he couldn’t have just orbed in like hi i’m a whitelighter and you’ll never see me again it was better for prue to mourn and move on so she that had a shot at happiness but now he’s face to face with her and what i thought it would be better for you? it sounds hollow so instead of trying to explain himself he just says the first thing that comes to mind i never stopped loving you and he’s ready to orb back into the ether or whatever bc while the elders won’t punish him for saving prue & piper they’re still not jazzed and he’s still not allowed to interact with them when prue kisses him and tell him like i lost you once i’m not about to do it again marry me. and like they’re married within the hour bc by now the charmed ones have done this before they can do it on a speed round mode and the elders are like hey we said- and prue’s like sorry i can’t hear you over the sound of holy matrimony suck my balls blah blah blah like end season 3 i’m not sure when prue would have her first child though and if it would predate wyatt bc like. y’know her career’s still very much in its early stages she’s still on the up & up and her and andy haven’t actually like been together in a minute so there’s a lot of catching up to do whereas like piper and leo have consecutively been together longer she’s owned p3 longer than prue’s been a photographer so she’s already p locked in on that & she can do her job sitting down which is a plus. so i think in a whitelighter andy au wyatt will still be born first but patricia will be born within the same year, maybe six months after wyatt and i don’t think wyatt would really be like the twiced blessed bc like patricia would be Right There and he’s just no longer special enough to really warrant a prophecy y’know? i also think in this au it would take longer for prue and andy to move out bc y’know like again they just got andy back but i think she would still be out of the house by the end of season four beginning of season five ish i also think like the thing they really didn’t consider is that their kid’s gonna be half whitelighter so when piper’s like yeah have you vomited orbs yet lmao prue’s like wait. especially bc like andy’s only been a whitelighter for like a year or two and they’re both like oh word what does this mean and like they have leo and sorta piper to answer their questions but it’s sorta like they’ve got this vibe that no matter what happens like we’re in this together we have each other’s back we can do anything real power couple vibe they’re very like sappy like they’re aware they’re sappy & they’re not gonna stop.

& then a bit on sheridan & warren bc in the specific au i’m gonna write them in it still starts the same as it did here but i am keeping prue’s canon death in s3. and so like s4 the twins are still toddlers and i think piper and phoebe would still offer to watch them on like weekdays or whatever bc they still have a bedroom in the manor and jack still sorta lives in a bachelor pad and like the kids do have magic powers and jack definitely is there more and shows up more bc those are his kids and one day he shows up and there’s a demon attack and he like knew prue fought demons but he had never y’know. been in the line of fire so to speak and he’s like does this happen a lot and piper’s like yeah sort of and phoebe’s like there’s no need to worry warren and sheridan are totally safe here and jack’s like really because the scorched wallpaper begs to differ and piper’s like we understand your panic but like we can keep them safe and jack’s like no i don’t think you understand my panic those are my sons they’re my only kids and they’ve already lost prue i’m not. i’m taking them with me. and like the girls get where he’s coming from (paige is also here she just doesn’t really know jack so she’s hanging out with leo in the kitchen like 😐) basically they bind warren & sheridan’s powers and phoebe modifies the dominus trinus (now the dominus dualis ig) and tells jack that when they’re ready this will give them their magic back. and so like he moves them into his place but it’s not built for kids and so he’s on the hunt for a new place but also like a new jobs bc like bucklands blows without prue and almost everything there reminds him of her and he really just needs a fresh start so when he gets a job offer in japan he packs his bags & the three of them are off and then it’s like maybe four years in japan and then we’ll say he goes to new york and that lasts maybe two years and now warren and sheridan are like in elementary school and he knows the hopping from place to place isn’t like good for them and he really needs to settle down for a place that’s gonna be like Home and he knows he has to return to san francisco. so 2007 he’s back in san francisco he does not cross paths with the halliwells again and he sorta feels like he should bc like sheridan & warren Are Witches that’s like part of who they are and like he and prue had agreed before that they would raise them with magic because prue wishes she had known she was a witch she had always thought that had she had come earlier to the craft she could have done more good maybe not lost as many people and jack knows he has to unbind their magic eventually especially bc that was what prue wanted and like prue was always right but like. fuck dude. his kids were wizards. witches, whatever. like how is he supposed to raise kids with magic. like should he just go back to the manor and be like hi raise my magic kids for me he doesn’t want to do that those are his kids he doesn’t want to dump them off somewhere much less the place where their mom died so basically he keeps postponing it he keeps blowing it off and the kids are growing up normal & safe but still it’s gnawing at him bc it’s not what prue wanted and he doesn’t want to send them into the world unprepared and like sheridan & warren are like sixteen now and he’s like fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. what am i doing what am i gonna do i don’t know a goddamn thing so he’s like fuck it. hi god it’s me jack. i don’t believe in you and i don’t really believe in praying but here i am on my knees bc i’m lost. i think i’ve fucked up but i don’t know how to make it better, i want to do the right thing but i don’t even know what that is, would love some like. guidance. or something. i guess. and he like waits because like magic is real so like. hey god. do something please. and nothing happens and he’s like whatever this is why i never went to church blah blah blah That Night he dreams he’s at p3, which is weird because it’s been closed for like eight years and jack hasn’t thought about it in like twice that long but that’s where he is. and it’s like empty and a bit messy like there’s been a concert but now it’s late and everyone’s gone home. everyone except him, and the raven haired woman at the bar. prue. and listen jack doesn’t cry okay he doesn’t saw marley and me and like didn’t even sniffle (lie, he cried) but he sees prue and well uhh he’s crying a lil bc like fuck. he misses her. and he misses her confidence and the way she always seemed to have the right answer and could always manage to save the day and he misses her. and he’s like i hope you’re here to answer my prayers and she smiles at him bc he’s always so glib and stupid and it drives her up the wall but she still loves it about him and she’s like actually, i am. and idk she talks with him and quells his fears and he’s like how do i even bring that up to them he guys you’re wizards -witches. yeah that. like how do i even broach that. and prue’s like get the spell. and be ready. and she just sorta vanishes and he’s like cool are you gonna save the day like you always do but he can already feel she just isn’t there anymore and he’s like okay :/ and he wakes up and it’s like three am and he wants to go back to bed the whole magic thing is just niggling at the back of his mind so he gets out of bed and hunts down his old briefcase he had from all the way back at bucklands and finds just like a blank unlabelled folder and takes a deep breath and in it are some old photos of prue and him from the 90s and a thick folded up piece of paper with a torn edge and he carefully unfolds it and in like a really nice script is the unbinding spell and then like warren and sheridan are like dad? why are you awake right now and he’s like why are you awake right now? and they twins sorta share a look and warren’s like weird dream and sheridan’s looking over his dad’s shoulder and sees the pictures of prue and is like is this mom? and he takes the pictures and jack’s like yeah those are from. they’re from a long time ago. and sheridan and warren are looking at these pictures and like they wanna ask something but aren’t sure how to say it so jack goes first and he’s like your mom wanted you to have this and hands them the spell and they’re like what. is this? and he’s like its a spell. to unbind your powers. magic powers. i know i should have told you earlier and i’m sorry but i- are ghost real? what? like. can dead people... y’know... and jack breaks into a smile bc he’s so glad that they actually got to like. meet prue. have at least one memory of her. and so sheridan and warren take the spell and are like. so do we read it? and jack’s like idk i’m not a witch yeah i guess so y’know hear now the words of the witches, the secrets we hid in the night. the oldest of gods are invoked here. the great work of magic is sought. in this night and in this hour, i call upon the ancient power. bring your powers to we brothers two, we want the power, give us the power. and like the apartment shakes and idk the lights flicker and the brothers are like cool. now what. and jack’s like i don’t know. guess we’ll find out.

#throwback to before i know how to put a cut in an ask #and would just post massive blocks of text #bc like #i;m not gonna edit these #charmed #andy trudeau #prue x andy #jack sheridan #warren halliwell #sheridan halliwell #💌

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